


The Show Must Go On

by JayRain



Series: New Magic and Old Gods [5]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Complete, Dragon Age - Freeform, Halamshiral, Jaws of Hakkon, Jaws of Hakkon DLC, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Magisterium (Dragon Age), Romance, Skyhold, Tevinter Imperium, Trespasser, Trespasser DLC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 00:22:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 67,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9522740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayRain/pseuds/JayRain
Summary: Was the fight against Corypheus the only thing keeping Dorian and Theo together? It's something that nags at Dorian when the Exalted Council has unexpected results for the Inquisition, and when he has to return to Tevinter. While he tries to convince himself that some things are more important than love he can't help but wish he had his Amatus by his side: now more than ever.  Sequel to "Fumbling Toward Who We Are".  (crossposted from fanfiction.net)





	1. What Yet Lingers

It was colder here than anywhere else Dorian had ever been, and over the last couple of years he'd been in many places. But at least it wasn't snowing. In fact, the sunlight was deceptively bright this far south in the Frostback Basin. It blinded him as it glittered off Cloudcap Lake. He squinted and huddled deeper into his decidedly unattractive leather and fur coat and tried not to laugh as Theo attempted to borrow a boat from the Avvar fisherman. The Inquisitor had saved an Empress, defeated an ancient madman, and helped elect Divine Victoria…and he couldn't borrow a boat.

"That island is the Lady's Rest," the man said, but he sounded apologetic. "Lowlanders have never set foot there in our memory."

Theo had, at least, had a lot of practice with difficult diplomatic situations; he didn't get frustrated, though Dorian was sure he'd hear about it in their tent tonight. "There's evidence we might find more information about the previous Inquisitor's resting place on that island," he explained. "We mean no disrespect to your gods."

The boatman scuffed the toe of his fur-lined boots in the mud at his feet. "I wish I could help, lowlander. But I'd not risk offending the Lady. Only Avvar have been to her Rest."

Theo cocked his head to the side, and Dorian knew he was getting an idea. When they'd first met, Theo had seemed nervous, boyish and timid. He relied on others to make decisions for him. But as he'd grown into his role as Inquisitor, he'd revealed his creativity and intelligence and still surprised Dorian with his quick thinking. "Is there a way we might prove our intentions to the Avvar?" he asked.

The boatman was caught off-guard. He'd probably been expecting them to either walk away, and be done with it; or to strong-arm him into borrowing the boat. But Theo didn't operate that way. "I can do nothing. But if you were to speak to our thane, she may be able to help you where I am unable."

Dorian sighed; his breath steamed in the chill air. They were about to take a hike.

He was used to traipsing all over Thedas by now. He'd been through the rolling Hinterlands of Ferelden; the bleak deserts of the Western Approach; even the mysterious and overgrown Arbor Wilds. But here in the Frostback Basin he truly felt out of his element. Perhaps it was because, while they were technically on Inquisition business, there wasn't the same sense of urgency as there had been over a year and a half ago. Somehow they'd survived fighting Corypheus, the ancient darkspawn and former Magister. Dorian thought perhaps they'd settle down in the relative luxury of Skyhold, the Inquisition's mountain fortress. But Theo's energy was boundless, and his enthusiasm, unfortunately, contagious.

They'd slain dragons. They'd been personal guests of Divine Victoria, whom Theo still called Cassandra with a mischievous grin when no one else was around to accuse him of blasphemy. They'd explored Tevinter ruins, and made love under the blank eyes of the ancient statues and the moonlight filtering in between crumbling columns. Dorian was content to let their adventures continue on that particular trend.

But now they were assisting Bram Kenric, a professor from the University of Orlais. He and Theo had struck up a rapport immediately upon meeting. Both were Free Marchers, both sons destined for a life of Chantry service before managing to escape that life. And while Dorian knew Theo was intelligent, the relative calm after Corypheus's defeat had given him time to devote to reading and studies that had awoken a ravenous curiosity in him. When Kenric contacted the Inquisition with the hope of doing onsite research into the possibility of finding the only other Inquisitor's final resting place, Theo couldn't say no.

If finding that resting place meant hiking up the hills to Stone-Bear Hold to win over a tribe of Avvar, then that's what Theo Trevelyan would do, and Dorian would go with him. Besides, he was a bit curious as well.

The first Inquisition had led to the Seekers of Truth, Cassandra's former order, splitting into Seekers and Templars, and shortly after that, Inquisitor Ameridan had simply vanished. Unlike Chantry historians, however, Kenric couldn't leave the legend alone. It was too tempting for Theo to turn down as well. He was, after all, the first Inquisitor in nearly 800 years. The chance to learn more about his predecessor had given him a wistful, almost pained look.

"I want to learn more about him, Dorian," Theo had said before kissing him where his jaw met his neck. It drove Dorian crazy, and Theo knew it. "I want to know if I measure up."

"His Inquisition and your Inquisition are completely different Inquisitions," Dorian had said, even as he knew he was probably going to give in and accompany Theo on yet another adventure. "Formed under completely different circumstances with totally different objectives."

Another kiss on the neck, and warmth as Theo nuzzled his ear. "We have nothing better to do."

"Aside from lie around in the lap of luxury drinking wine and making love without the constant threat of death?"

"Well, yes. Aside from that."

Theo probably could have just asked nicely and Dorian would have agreed. He supposed it wasn't all that bad as they hiked up. Theo had taken the lead, and Dorian rarely tired of watching him from the back. If pressed, he might even admit that the view across the lake was lovely as well.

Theo paused and squinted out over the lake. "I think I can see the island from here," he said. "Do you think he's there? Ameridan."

Dorian stood beside him. "That would be far too simple for you, and you know it," he said.

Theo shook his windblown hair out of his face. His cheeks were rosy with the cold. "I know. But I can hope." He unconsciously flexed the fingers of his left hand, the hand marked with strange, ancient magic that had caused the Breach in the first place. Corypheus had been dead for nearly a year and a half; the Breach was reduced to a scar in the sky, like a cloud that never moved; and yet Theo's mark remained. Dorian rarely considered it, but sometimes Theo would get lost in thought and flex or clench his hand; sometimes he caught Theo staring down at the soft, constant green glow.

Dorian rested his gloved hand on Theo's shoulder. "Your mark did not make you the Inquisitor. Your choices and leadership did." He gave him a gentle squeeze. "I know you seek answers even still, but I don't want to see you disappointed."

Theo smiled slightly, but his green-eyed gaze was distant. "I'm just curious, Dor. Anything I find will be helpful."

"You're a terrible liar," Dorian said as they continued up the path. "I still love you though."

"That's a relief," Theo said with a grin, this time a real grin, one that reached his eyes.

By the time they reached the Avvar hold the boathouse was a tiny speck, and the drop down to the lake shore was dizzying. The sun had shifted in the sky; the light was more golden, heralding sunset. Dorian didn't relish the idea of trekking back to the research outpost in the dark. Scout Harding had mentioned hostile Avvar attacking Inquisition troops further north.

As they passed groups of Avvar he heard whispers of "lowlanders". Ironic, considering Skyhold was nestled deep in the peaks of the Frostbacks. No one was outright hostile, for which Dorian was grateful; but neither were they friendly. "Watch yourself, lowlander," one man said as they passed. He sat on a rock, dragging a hunting knife across a sharpening block. The blade scraped and sang out. Lovely.

Someone finally, begrudgingly pointed out the entrance to a small cave where they could find the hold's Thane. Dorian and Theo both blinked in the sudden darkness. "Welcome, lowlanders," a woman said. "I am Thane Svarah Sun-Hair. My people say you kept your weapons sheathed as you entered. You come in peace, then?"

Theo bowed slightly. "Inquisitor Trevelyan. I've joined a research expedition that leads me here. We've no quarrel with you or your people." His time with the Inquisition had made him slightly more evasive when he needed to be, but also more diplomatic. He explained the boatman situation to the Thane.

"Arvid Rolfsen barely relieves himself without first apologizing for potentially offending the gods," she said with a laugh. "Your Inquisition is welcome in this valley. Already your troops have engaged with and beaten back the Jaws of Hakkon. If you come on behalf of the Inquisition, that alone is enough for me to grant you guest-welcome in our hold."

It was growing dark, so Thane Sun-Hair insisted they remain the night as guests of the hold. The small hut was rustic but warm, especially once Dorian lit the fire pit with a casual flick of his wrist. Eventually he felt the chill seep out of his bones and peeled off his thick coat. "No way to bar the door," he pointed out.

Theo glanced over as he pulled off a heavy woolen undershirt. "I think it's supposed to be a sign of trust, or something."

Dorian wrapped his arms around Theo and kissed him. "I wasn't thinking security. I was thinking privacy."

* * *

 

The morning dawned bright and cold. While they both would have preferred to remain snuggled beneath the furs and beside the fire, they had a mission to accomplish. The chill wind whipped up the waters of Cloudcap Lake, rocking the boat that Rolfsen had begrudgingly lent them. Dorian had always hated water travel and he leaned against the side of the boat praying that he could keep his stomach contents down.

At last they rowed ashore on the Lady's Rest. The island was quiet but for the whistling breeze and lapping water; the sun was bright in a cloudless sky. And yet Dorian couldn't quite feel a sense of peace. He let go of Theo's arm and closed his eyes, feeling the wind on his face; but he also felt a melancholy current in Fade, a feeling made stronger by the thinness of the Veil on this island.

As a Necromancer Dorian had always been drawn to death. From a young age he could feel where the Veil was thin and spirits of sadness and fear lurked and lingered. He assisted them when he could; and in turn they helped him.

With his eyes still closed he began walking, navigating the Fade version of the island. A spirit flitted at the edge of his vision. Whenever he tried to look directly, it seemed to disappear. _I must sleep; to sleep, perchance to dream,_ it seemed to say, a voice he felt in his mind as he drifted along the Fade currents. _Why, my love? Ameridan, Vhenan, why?_

Dorian stopped and struggled back to the surface of consciousness. "Well. The Avvar are certainly correct about spirits in this place," he said, shaking his head and gazing around. He stood on a grassy knoll. The Fade currents wavered around him. "Something here mentioned Ameridan, and 'my love'. But I don't know who, or what."

"An Inquisitor in love?" Theo asked with a slight smile. "What would the Chantry say about that?" He followed as Dorian trudged further inland, following the faint traces of spirits floating through the air. For all the beauty of the day, this place felt increasingly sadder with each step he took. If the last Inquisitor had faced half the obstacles Theo had faced, then the sadness was more than understandable.

They came to the remains of a house: the walls were long gone and grasses grew over and through the stone foundation. If Dorian listened closely enough he could hear the same voice mourning its lost dreams. _I waited for you,_ she said. _I dreamed for you. And now I linger alone without you._

_What is your name?_ Dorian thought, as Theo began scouting out the humble ruins.

_Telana. I came to dream of my Vhenan when he left; he never returned, never came to me again, and now I am alone._

_Where is he?_

She began to cry; the wind seemed to howl more mournfully through the trees and over the lake. _He was here; came here, then vanished when I tried to follow him…_

The sadness was all-consuming, though to Dorian's relief there didn't seem to be a despair demon behind it. Just the melancholy of someone who had lost their love. He looked to where Theo knelt in the dirt, brushing something off with his gloved hand and felt the deep pang of loss as spirit floated beside him. _Vhenan; vhenan,_ she wept.

Most of the elves Dorian had ever known were slaves, or the poor of Orlesian cities; or the Dalish they'd seen in the Exalted Plains, clinging to remnants of a life long gone. He didn't know their language, and had never had any reason to know or care. But the word 'vhenan' sounded so sorrowful and almost… beautiful.

"Found something," Theo said. Sweat glistened on his forehead as he dug in and pulled a metal chest from the ground. He sat back on his heels and took a long drink from his water skin. He worked at the lock with his set of picks and finally the lid opened on rusted hinges. Inside he found a silverite tube that looked untouched by the many centuries. Theo wouldn't feel it, because he wasn't a mage; but Dorian felt strong fields of restorative magic preserving the tube and its contents. Theo removed his thick leather gloves and slid fragile, ancient documents out of the tube. He scanned the faded writing and then looked up at Dorian with wide green eyes. “We found him."


	2. The Inquisitor's Trail

Everything they knew was wrong, courtesy of the Chantry.

There were rumors Ameridan had an elven lover, but Telana the dreamer had faded into legend, hushed over by centuries of Chantry rule.  They were content for history to believe that Ameridan had been a devout Andrastian, whose purpose had been to help Emperor Drakon spread the Chant. The first Inquisitor could be nothing else, surely. But Ameridan the dragon hunter and Seeker had worshiped  _ both _ Andraste and the elven Creators,  _ and  _ loved an elven dreamer mage. The documents they'd found, which tests had proved authentic, confirmed that much. The Chantry would not be pleased that a major tenet of their history was wrong.

Theo sat on the rock overlooking the valley below, cradling his left hand and staring at his green, glowing mark. On occasion it sparked and he winced. "No one ever sets out to become Inquisitor, it seems," he murmured, flexing his fingers.

"Do you feel better knowing that you're not the only accidental Inquisitor?" Dorian asked, sitting beside him and resting his arm over Theo's shoulders. Behind them the ancient Tevinter ruins cast shadows in the late afternoon sun. A small contingent of Inquisition soldiers was piling up the bodies of hostile Avvar that they'd encountered. They called themselves the Jaws of Hakkon and had sworn to kill any who engaged them in battle. It seemed that the closer they got to Ameridan, the more Hakkonites they encountered.

"Slightly." Theo pulled his glove back on and clenched his left hand in a fist for a moment.

"Does it still pain you?" Dorian asked, reaching for Theo's hand.

Theo pulled it away from Dorian's reach. "Only a little, and only sometimes," he said with what was meant to be a reassuring smile, but Dorian saw that he was troubled. Theo had never been much good at hiding his emotions.

"Corypheus has been dead nearly two years," Dorian told him. "Shouldn't the mark stop hurting?"

Theo shrugged. "The only one who can come even slightly close to explaining anything is long gone." He got to his feet. "Let's get to that last beacon."

They'd been hiking through the hills and swamps of the Frostback Basin for three days, tracking magical beacons that would, hopefully, lead them to Ameridan's resting place. Professor Kenric himself accompanied them, though he tried to stay clear of the fighting. As they trudged toward the last beacon the professor chattered excitedly about his hypotheses. Theo listened and nodded politely, but Dorian could tell his mind was elsewhere.

How would history remember him?

How would history remember  _ them _ ? If the Chantry had erased Telana for simply being an elf, what would they do to Dorian as a man, a mage,  _ and _ a Tevinter, at that? Early in their relationship Dorian had tried to explain to Theo what it would mean to be attached to a Tevinter in the eyes of the Chantry, and therefore nearly all of southern Thedas. But the mutual attraction was too strong, the feelings too hard to ignore, and in the end, the love too deep. Growing up in Tevinter high society it was unlikely Dorian would ever be allowed to be in love. He'd underestimated what it would feel like to be with one person who would care for him unconditionally. He tried to believe that it didn't hurt to think of history erasing him, of them remembering Theo as a hero who'd saved Thedas from destruction on his own.

They rounded a bend by the river and started upstream when they came upon another band of Hakkonites. Theo held up his hand, signaling a stop. Before Dorian knew what was happening Theo had hoisted himself up into a tree and was balancing lightly on a thick branch, bow drawn. Dorian pulled on his mana and cast a shield around him.

Theo let his arrow fly. Dorian held his breath. A Hakkonite watchman fell over, Theo's arrow stuck in his throat. Another arrow flew, and the Hakkonites turned upon them. Dorian called up the feeling of fire, letting it flow down his arms and into his staff, which focused the power into a ball of flame that he loosed at the oncoming enemies.

Flames roared and the enemy screamed in pain and anger. Dorian had long ago steeled himself against the sounds of dying people, especially the people who were also trying to kill him. He would never  _ enjoy  _ it; the scent of singed hair and burnt flesh nauseated him. He reached for the Fade and found the spirits of death and sadness there, just on the edges of his consciousness, ready to assist him.

Inquisition soldiers ran in and engaged the enemy. Theo aimed over their heads and picked off the ranged Hakkonites. Dorian called forth a blast of dark violet energy from the Fade. A shape like a skull appeared over the heads of the approaching enemies, some who fell upon their knees and covered their eyes in fear, only to be taken down by Inquisition swordsmen.

An arrow whistled through the air and stuck in the tree above Theo's head with a  _ thunk _ . Theo tried to duck, tried to keep his balance, but slipped and crashed through the lower branches. He landed on the ground and rolled with his bow under him just as a wave of Hakkonite warriors, armed with axes and short swords, broke upon them.

Dorian conjured up a wall of fire with a sweep of his hand and called down lightning with his staff. A green flash nearly blinded him. Theo propped himself up on his right arm and held his left hand out as bright Fade energy issued forth at the enemy. Those caught in the flare shrieked as the searing heat of the energy melted skin and bone and they were sucked, piece by piece, into the rift Theo had opened. The rift crackled and buzzed and the light drowned out Dorian's lightning.

The screams died away. At last Theo clenched his hand in a fist and held it close to him. He kept his eyes closed and sweat beaded on his upper lip and rolled down his forehead as he worked to regain control over his feelings. The Fade-touched mark on his hand reacted to strong emotion; usually he could take a deep breath and smile and the light would dissipate. This time his nostrils flared and his brow furrowed.

Dorian rested a hand on Theo's shoulder. "Are you hurt?" he asked. He glanced up at the pair of Inquisition soldiers who had rushed over and shook his head. They backed away, but kept worried eyes on their Inquisitor. "Luckily it wasn't a high fall," he added, squeezing Theo's shoulder gently. Anything to calm him, help him focus away from the strong emotions that made his mark flare up.

"Thank you," Theo said with a sidelong glance and a ghost of a smile. "I'm fine," he called more loudly to his soldiers as he got to his feet. He examined his bow as they struck out again, leaving behind nothing but scorch marks as evidence of their fight. "And so's the bow, thankfully," he added, trying to sound jovial; but it came out forced, and Dorian couldn't miss the way he still held his left arm close to his body, flexing his fingers and cracking his knuckles. "I should really name it," he said with a smile.

"Then you and Varric and Bianca could go out together," Dorian teased. "Where would that leave me?"

That managed to elicit a real smile from Theo. "I'd never leave you behind. I need you too much." The path began to climb up another hill. "I won't let history forget that this happened," he said suddenly, fiercely, and his hand flashed bright green again. "Not like what they did to Telana."

"That's still bothering you?" Dorian asked, reaching for Theo's other hand and entwining their fingers together. "What does it matter what history recalls? Doesn't what we have at present mean more?" Theo did not answer, but he did not let go of Dorian's hand, either. "You may not always be the Inquisitor, either. A day may come when you're just a man again, content to grow old sitting by the fireside." He grinned. "What if that's what happened to Ameridan?" Theo cocked his head to the side. "He couldn't bear being in the public eye any longer. So he retired to the most remote place he could find in all of Thedas, assumed a new identity, and spent the rest of his days quietly living off the land and enjoying not solving everyone else's problems."

"When you put it that way, it's pretty tempting," Theo conceded.

They approached the last beacon. It was located on a hill that overlooked a high wall made of ice that breached the gap between two high hills; the ice had been there some time, as there was a formidable gate carved into it. Professor Kenric unrolled his map. "There's a valley down there. We can get some scouts up here to check it out, assuming we can get through the gate."

"I don't think that will work very well," Theo said. Dorian and Kenric followed his gaze to where several Hakkonite soldiers were patrolling the gate. He looked between the soldiers and his hand and Dorian could see the gears turning in his brain. Dorian recalled the screams; the flesh searing and peeling from bone in a flash of bright green, superheated light. He knew what Theo's mark could do, and knew Theo avoided doing it often. But to see him debate using it…

"We have other options," Dorian said quietly. "Your magic is not the only way."

Theo sighed. "You're right. Of course you are." He tried to smile and jammed his hand into his pocket. He sent a pair of soldiers to fetch Harding and her scouts, and another pair to apprise Thane Sun-Hair of their progress. "We need to know more about what the Hakkonites want, apart from worshiping a dragon god," he told Kenric. "And it wouldn't hurt to have people here who know the land and the culture."

They set up a camp a short ways down the hill, out of sight and range of the Hakkon patrols. Dorian started a fire while the remaining few troops set up a perimeter and began erecting the tents. They had simple camp rations of dried food; not very interesting, except as a chewing exercise, but it was better than an empty stomach.

As the sun set Theo climbed back up the hill to the beacon and watched the ice wall. The Hakkonite soldiers carried torches, unafraid of being spotted—and perhaps hoping to be spotted. They had with them hulking warriors nearly the size of Qunari, wielding two-handed war hammers and clubs.

Dorian joined him. "This doesn't have to be our fight. In fact, I'd enjoy it very much if it wasn't." Theo glanced over at him but said nothing. "Ever since you finished off Corypheus you're looking for fights." He took Theo's left hand; Theo tried to pull away, but Dorian held fast and stared down at the glowing green mark. "You've saved the world, multiple times; you've reconciled with your family. What more do you need to prove?"

Theo turned his hand over and linked his fingers with Dorian's. "I'm not trying to prove anything. Just trying to do the right thing." He looked down the hill at the twinkling torches reflecting off the ice wall. "Maybe I don't know what that is anymore."

"Good thing I'm here to remind you from time to time." Dorian turned and gently tugged at Theo's hand, urging him back to their small camp. It took a moment, but Theo followed and joined him by the fireside to wait for reinforcements.


	3. Ameridan's End

"You have a unique gift," Dorian said, wrinkling his nose as he stared at the barely recognizable remains of Gurd Harofsen. The Avvar's blood froze on the icy stone floor. His followers, the Avvar who called themselves the Jaws of Hakkon, had scattered and the Avvar of Stone-bear hold were in pursuit. Theo glanced over at Dorian, curiosity on his blood-spattered face. "You seem to have a knack for finding crazy humans bent on becoming gods."

Theo's laugh echoed in the vast chamber and his breath steamed in the cold. "I suppose that's true." He yanked his arrows out of Harofsen's corpse. The body was part human, part distorted creature: the results of trying to host the soul of the Avvar god, Hakkon, in his body. He grimaced as he wiped off the arrowheads on the cuff of his leather glove. "Corypheus wanted power for the sheer sake of it, though. This man? He lost everything and was just trying to get it back. I almost feel sorry for him." He twirled the arrow in his fingers.

Dorian wrapped his arms around Theo. "Power corrupts," he said. "I can't be from Tevinter and _not_ know that. This man," he said, prodding the body with his toe, "would have used what he gained to overtake first this region, then more of Thedas until he was stopped. You just stopped him before he could truly get started."

Theo nodded and replaced the still-gory arrows in his quiver. He rested a hand on Dorian's arm, smiling; and then his smile faltered and his brow wrinkled. Dorian started to ask what he sensed, but Theo shook his head and held up one finger. Dorian held his breath and listened. The cold itself was sharp and seemed to buzz in his ears; or maybe that was just his blood freezing into crystals as it tried to pulse through his veins. He heard cracking: slight at first, then growling. Then a crack, louder than any lightning strike Dorian had ever heard, or caused.

He looked up. The ice overhead was sundering. Chunks of ice fell around them. Theo wrapped his right arm around Dorian and held him close. He held his left hand aloft and the green pulse of the Fade spread around them into a dome of energy that shielded them from the collapse. Dorian watched, entranced, as the ice bounced off of the shield. Yet again he should be dead; so many times in this strange odyssey he should have died, and yet here he was, seeing and living the impossible.

Still more impossible things seemed to be in the works. The ice fell away and light came pouring through a square hole in the ceiling. But a shadow also descended upon them, and Dorian only hoped Theo's luck held out a little more as they both dove out of the way of the falling mass.

 _I'm dead this time. I'm really dead,_ he thought as his chest constricted and the ground around them shuddered. He tried to breathe but dust and cold choked him. He tried to move but couldn't.

Then the weight lifted from his back and he could breathe and move. He rolled over, gasping. Theo lay on his back, bow caught under him as he gasped and tried to push himself up. Dorian conjured a fireball in the palm of his hand and held it before him, ready to cast out as the dust cleared. His heart caught in his chest when he saw the dark, hulking shape of a dragon looming before them.

They'd faced unfair odds before. If there was one thing Theo had grown to love it was an unfair fight, when the odds were not in his favor. Dorian guessed it went back to him always feeling the need to prove himself. But one tired mage, one exhausted archer, and the handful of Inquisition scouts who'd stayed behind, rather than go with Thane Sun-Hair's Avvar, were no match for a dragon, even one still groggy from being encased in ice.

"I love you, but I'm not fighting this," Dorian murmured to Theo. He kept his eyes on the dragon and the fireball in his hand burning bright. He could get it off and buy them a few seconds of precious time to escape. Already he was surveying their position, looking for exits or at least cover.

Theo got to his feet, his light armor creaking. "I don't think we have to," he said in a low voice as he took a tentative step toward the dragon.

" _Fasta vass_ , what are you doing?" Dorian snapped, clambering to his feet. He caught up with Theo, but they both stopped short when they saw the shape of a gray-haired elf huddled on the floor. He clutched a staff in his stiff hands and his breath came in shuddering gasps.

He looked up, searching them both with piercing pale green eyes, deep set in a face etched with elvish _vallaslin_ and deep lines of worry around his eyes and mouth. "Did… did Kordilius send you?" he asked in a raspy voice. He tried to stand, but only got to one knee. Theo lunged forward to help him, but stopped and stared at him instead. "Emperor Drakon," the man said, looking up and resting one elbow on his knee while he braced himself on his staff. "Do not tell me he is unknown to you." He smiled slightly.

"Maker's breath, you're him," Theo said, his green eyes wide. He dropped to his knees to be on the same level as Inquisitor Ameridan. "This is the forty-fourth year of the Dragon Age," he said after a moment of thought. "You've been frozen all this time."

Dorian flicked his gaze between Theo, Ameridan, and the dragon, which was still very much alive. Its sides moved like an old bellows and its front claws twitched. He'd fought a dragon before, but they'd had the Iron Bull and his Chargers along. Dorian hadn't ever been so close to a living dragon, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't nervous.

Theo hardly seemed to know that the dragon was there. He hardly seemed to notice Dorian, at that, and Dorian could not help but feel a twinge of jealousy as Theo spoke with Ameridan. "The world has changed," Theo was saying, staring at his left hand. The bright glow was covered by his heavy gloves. "You probably wouldn't recognize it."

"What of the Inquisition?" Ameridan asked. He sounded weary, in pain. His shoulders shook with a spasm and he gritted his teeth together until it passed.

"Successful, in the long run," Theo answered. "But… so much happened it would be impossible to explain. And you probably wouldn't believe any of it."

Ameridan tried to smile. "Try me," he said.

The moments that followed were surreal, moments Dorian had never thought he would experience even after his extensive travels and training. The three of them sat in a circle on the freezing floor around a magical fire Dorian ended up conjuring; the massive dragon, Hakkon Wintersbreath embodied, occasionally groaned nearby. Every time the dragon twitched Ameridan shuddered and seemed to grow paler, if that were possible. Every time Ameridan coughed or shook Theo started and looked worried andhelpless.

"I've been locked away with Hakkon for eight centuries," Ameridan told Theo, a ghost of a smile playing upon his bloodless lips. He sighed. "I gained peace, but lost…" He closed his eyes.

"Yourself," Dorian said, surprising himself. "To do this," he said, gesturing at the dragon, "you lost your love; your friends; your own time."

Hakkon groaned; Ameridan fell forward onto his hands, his staff clattering on the floor. Theo knelt and placed a hand on the ancient elf's shoulder. "The Avvar disrupted my magic," Ameridan said in a voice barely above a whisper. "I can't hold any longer." He looked between Theo and Dorian with his pale green eyes, before resting his gaze on Theo. "This role. It requires everything of you. Do not lose yourself to it."

The dragon shifted. Muscles rippled beneath hard scaly skin and the eyelids lifted, revealing bright blue eyes that were both startling and frightening in their intelligence. When the great beast opened its mouth it felt colder in the chamber around them. The dragon gave only a cursory glance at Theo and Dorian, but stared at Ameridan. It opened its massive jaws and roared, a sound of ice cracking and avalanches rumbling down mountain sides. A sound of anger and rage, of pain and vengeance.

Dorian grabbed Theo's shoulder and tugged him away from the beast; Ameridan's form wavered in the dim light. Dorian blinked and the first Inquisitor was gone. Hakkon's roar, louder and more confident this time, froze the air around them. Dorian quickly cast a wall of fire around himself and Theo, which helped dissipate the dragon's icy blast. Hakkon stared right at them, mouth curving in a smile—or as close as a dragon could come to smiling.

"We're not saying goodbye," Theo said suddenly, nocking an arrow on his bow and looking deep into Dorian's eyes.

"None of that sentimental tripe," Dorian agreed, even though he knew he was probably going to die for certain this time. He brandished his staff.

Hakkon made a rumbling sound almost like laughter before flapping his enormous blue-gray wings and heading for the hole in the ceiling. Theo swore and let his arrows fly, but they bounced off of Hakkon's hide. Dorian was able to cast off one fireball that caught Hakkon on the tail; the beast didn't even slow. It was a bit insulting.

Theo sighed. "I had so many questions," he said after a long moment, when the roars of Hakkon Wintersbreath had died away. "So many things I needed to know."

Dorian fumbled at his belt pouch and found a vial of lyrium. He shot it down and dropped the glass tube to the floor as the lyrium began to warm him and allow him to feel his magic returning. He was expending more energy than he normally liked, just with the simple act of keeping warm. "You were different Inquisitors, leading different Inquisitions," he reminded Theo. "I don't know that he could have helped you as much as you hoped." Theo glanced over at him. His eyes were shadowed and his cheeks red and chapped from the cold. Dorian sighed. "I'm sorry. I know how much you wanted this."

Theo nodded once then turned his eyes up toward the ceiling. "You're right," he said at last. "Come on. We have a dragon to kill."

"You're not serious."

But Theo was grinning, that crazy smile he got when he was about to go looking for a mismatched fight. Dorian wished he could talk sense into him, but knew it would be pointless to try.

And he still loved him anyway.


	4. Living History

The only other dragon Dorian had ever seen up close and personal was Corypheus’s red lyrium dragon, so corrupted they’d mistaken it for an archdemon for nearly a year.  He’d picked away at it from afar, swinging his staff in arcs of fire and lightning and praying that he’d miss the Iron Bull, who insisted on fighting the thing at close range.  Qunari.  Even after fighting side by side with one for so long Dorian would never quite understand them.

The Iron Bull and the Chargers, along with several Avvar warriors, had the dragon Hakkon surrounded on the frozen surface of Cloudcap Lake.  Unlike other dragons they’d seen, this one breathed frost.  The cold rolled off of Hakkon; already a few warriors were reduced to ice sculptures on the lake’s surface.  Dorian and the Avvar known only as the Augur pulsed magical fire at the creature.  Theo led a contingent of archers on the shoreline where a bonfire burned brightly, serving to ignite their arrows.  Bull kept the dragon’s back to the shore so it could not extinguish the flames.

Dorian wished they could have had a few days between the fight in the ruins and this one; but Ameridan had imprisoned Hakkon in the first place because the dragon god was going to wreak havoc over the south of Thedas.  To wait would allow the same thing to happen, just 800 years later than Hakkon had originally intended.  Somehow, Dorian always seemed to get wrapped up in saving the world.

He tried not to think about it, and only about pulling whatever reserves he could muster.  Next to him the Augur was calm, his mouth moving in silent prayer to the Avvar pantheon.  Maybe that was where he kept getting is supply of mana from.  Dorian considered praying to the Maker but it was probably too late for that.  He settled on swigging down his last vial of lyrium and resenting the Avvar mage for having the energy to expend.

He’d stopped wondering how much time had passed, or how much more time it would take to whittle down the dragon.  Theo had to be running out of arrows; and how was Bull still standing?  Was that a faint sheen of frost on his gray skin in the moonlight?  Was Krem’s maul swinging more slowly?  How many stars were in the sky?

The Augur’s solemn face appeared over Dorian.  “Lowlander?” he asked in his deep voice.

_ I hail from Tevinter!  I’m hardly from the ‘lowlands’, _ Dorian thought but he couldn’t make himself say it aloud.  He felt heavy and tired and completely spent.  He’d always hated the cold, and thought that freezing to death would be the worst, most painful way to go.  In fact the last time he’d felt close to this, he’d been trying to save Theo from dying of the cold after the destruction of Haven.  His eyelids drooped, too heavy to stay open.  His ears felt packed with fur, but it didn’t bother him.  The dragon was terribly noisy anyway.  Let Theo and the others finish it off.  He’d had quite enough of this Maker-forsaken adventure anyway.

* * *

 

“Dor?”

The whisper came from far away, perhaps from somewhere beyond the Fade.  Dorian felt like he was floating, but also like a boulder about to sink below the surface of the lake. 

“Dorian.  A--Am...Matous?”

Even in his stupor Dorian felt himself smile.  Theo kept trying to learn Tevene, but he never could get the hang of pronouncing it correctly.  He tried to latch onto some semblance of reality and haul his way toward consciousness, but it was tiring work and he felt himself drift back into sleep once more.

When Dorian finally woke, alert enough to be irritated by the sun piercing his eyes, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he noted they were still in Avvar territory.  He would have loved to wake up in their large bed in Skyhold, but he supposed just being alive would have to do for now.  “Your Tevene is still awful, even after all this time,” he murmured, turning his head to see Theo sitting next to the round stone fire pit in the center of the hut.  Theo was prodding at the embers with a long stick, and pleasant warmth filled the small hut.  The sunlight streamed through a hole in the roof, cut so smoke could exit.  

“I can’t be perfect,” Theo said, smiling.  His face was pale beneath the several days of scruff that was growing.  His cheeks looked a bit sunken, and dark circles ringed his tired eyes.  A long gash ran from his right temple down his cheek and jaw.  It had been stitched closed, and blood crusted along the stitches.  Dorian wrinkled his brow and tried to sit up, but Theo shook his head and joined him in the pile of furs.  “A tail swipe knocked me off a ledge and I caught a rock to the face,” he said.  “It’s just a flesh wound.”

Dorian unconsciously called up his mana.  He’d never been a healer, but this he could fix.  Just as the bit of pale blue light coalesced at his fingertips it dissipated and he fell back, feeling as if Hakkon himself had landed on his chest.  

Theo rested his cool palm on Dorian’s forehead.  “You pushed yourself too hard, or that’s what the Augur says,” he told him, concern in his eyes.  “You should have told me you were running so ragged.”

Dorian managed a chuckle.  “You’d have sent me back to camp.”

“Damn right I would have.”

“I wasn’t going to let you go up against that thing alone.”

Theo sighed.  “I wasn’t alone.”  Dorian tried to argue, but Theo shook his head.  “It’s done, and hopefully we won’t have to do anything like that again anytime soon.”  He ran his fingers through Dorian’s hair before leaning down to kiss his forehead.  His stubble tickled.

“Liar,” Dorian said, snuggling deeper into the furs as Theo wrapped his arms around him.  “You love a fight.”

Theo didn’t say anything, just pulled a blanket over the two of them.  “Get some more rest, love,” he said, nuzzling Dorian’s ear and sending a tingle up his spine.  “We can go home once you’re strong enough.”

* * *

  
  


It was another day before Dorian felt he could stand up unattended, and one more before he could get Theo to stop hovering over him like a worried mother hen every time he took a step.  Only when Dorian finally swatted Theo’s hand away from him did Theo truly grin and proclaim they were ready for travel.  

Inquisition troops greeted them at the gates of the Avvar hold with their horses.  Theo had hoped for a quiet leave-taking, but nothing was ever as simple as he seemed to hope for these days.  There were parting gifts from Stonebear Hold: weapons and armor and crafts made by the hold’s people.  The Thane herself saw them off.  She rested one hand in the scruff of their holdbeast’s neck.  The huge bear, Storvacker, growled low and contented, as if it knew peace had returned to this area.

“You have given our god rest, Lowlander,” Svarah Sun-Hair said to Theo, who bit one corner of his lip and tried not to look embarrassed.  Like slaying an embodied god was an easy thing that people did every day.  “You’ve ended the Hakkonites’ violence against our hold, and for that, you are worthy of being one of us.  We name you Inquisitor First-Thaw: he who ended the reign of the ice dragon.”

Theo bowed.  His expression was serious, and made almost fierce by the gash down the side of his face.  He said his thanks, and finally, after the sun had climbed into the sky, they’d mounted up and were headed back to the Inquisition base camp.  They only stopped briefly for Theo to give the order to start picking up camp and return to Skyhold.

“But… there’s still so much that this valley could yield in terms of research!” Professor Kenric lamented, staring out over the rolling land that led down to the lake.  Chunks of ice still floated on the surface, but the hard freeze from Hakkon’s breath had abated.

“You’re not Inquisition, Professor,” Theo told him.  “You must choose your path, but the Inquisition’s presence here is no longer necessary.”  He nodded to Scout Harding.

“Right!  Pack it up!  We’re out of here by sunrise tomorrow!” the flame-haired dwarf bellowed.  Kenric sighed and headed for his tent to begin packing.  Even with the hostile Hakkonites gone, lack of Inquisition support (and probably funding) was bound to make remaining here lonely and unproductive.

Even though the camp would take time to pack up, Theo and Dorian headed out, joined by Bull and the Chargers.  The mercenary company lagged behind, their raucous traveling songs echoing off the mountain passes in the sunny afternoon.  Theo was deep in thought, almost scowling as he rode along.  Or maybe it was the cut on his face, combined with his beard and his too-long hair.  Strands kept escaping the tie that held some of it back, falling into his face.  He would impatiently shake it off his forehead, only to have it fall back into his eyes again moments later.

Dorian, for his part, still felt worn out.  They were in no rush, and the easy lope of his horse beneath him, plus the warm sun on his back, lulled him into a strange half-sleep.  He’d learned to ride on some of the best horses in Tevinter at a very young age, and trusted both his horse and himself not to fall. 

They paused to water the horses and have an afternoon meal.  “I’m still a bit tired,” Dorian told Theo.  “So long as you don’t need any casting done immediately I should recover.”

“You’re certain you don’t want to ride in the carriage?”

“And miss nature passing me by?  And not get to see your adorable scowl every step of the way?” He asked, and Theo smiled slightly.  “You won,” he said after a moment when Theo didn’t refute what he’d said.  “We came through relatively unscathed.  You managed to not only find the last Inquisitor, but finish his job for him eight centuries later.  You’re even more living history than you were before,” he added.

Theo stared out at the mountains; they’d been following the foothills of the Frostbacks, and would head back into the mountains once they hit Redcliffe in a day or so.  “Jealous?” he asked with a slight smile.

Dorian didn’t answer right away.  The way he’d been raised, in an Altus family with great expectations thrust upon him, he’d always expected that he would be famous.  And of course, amongst Tevinter high society he was noteworthy.  Between his preference for men and his escapades with the Inquisition, he was practically  _ in _ famous.  But jealous of Theo’s notoriety?

“Hardly,” he said, wrapping his arm around Theo’s waist.  “Concerned, if anything.  You have done the impossible, literally.  Multiple times even.  You can stop at any time and no one would fault you for it.”

Theo shrugged.  “This… someone needed help.  And then the world needed saving again, so I suppose I was just doing my duty.”

“The world only needed saving because you ended up helping Kenric find the first Inquisitor.”

“So Hakkon is my fault.”  Theo pulled away from Dorian’s grasp.  “The fact that the Avvar warrior was trying to raise him, at the same time Kenric was researching, is all on me?” he asked.  He didn’t look at Dorian, but his brows were furrowed into a deep frown.

“Perhaps I will ride in the carriage after all,” Dorian told him, the end of his mustache quivering.  He felt the tingle of mana in his fingertips, as he always did when he was emotional.  Theo was beyond reasoning right now, stewing with some issue or another only he could eventually overcome.  

Theo sighed.  He took a breath as if to say something, but ended up turning away and heading back to his horse.  Dorian watched him go and tried to ignore the fluttering in his stomach. The Inquisitor didn’t look back, just mounted up and started off on the mountain road once more.  He left the rest of the traveling contingent scrambling to pick up everything and get moving to follow him.

Despite what he’d said Dorian didn’t fancy riding in the carriage; the day was lovely, even if Theo’s mood was a dark cloud over them.

“Something wrong with you and the Boss?” The Iron Bull asked him when he rode slowly enough that the Chargers caught up with him.  

It was a loaded question.  Certainly the many months since Corypheus’s defeat had changed Theo.  And maybe it had created a gap between the two of them.  “I’m not sure,” Dorian said at last.  While Bull wouldn’t judge them, Dorian didn’t know how much he felt like sharing, not when he himself was trying to work out just what was going on between them.  “He’s had a lot on his mind,” he finally said.

“I don’t think he’s the only one,” Bull said, appraising him with his single eye, but he didn’t press further.

“Perhaps you can take him out with the Chargers at some point.  Let him work off his restless energy,” Dorian suggested after they’d ridden a couple miles in silence.  Theo still hadn’t come back looking for him, and he didn’t have any inclination to deal with another outburst.  “He’s constantly looking for a fight, and I don’t have it in me to keep channeling it.  Or maybe you could even just go a few rounds with him in the sparring ring back home.”

Bull let out a loud laugh.  “Boss could best me from a distance with that bow of his, but I’d wreck him in under a minute.  He’s fast, but he’s scrawny as those saplings over there.”

Dorian smiled, even as part of him wanted to leap to Theo’s defense.  Bull was twice his size, and just as fast, which was surprising for a Qunari.  “Then perhaps you’d end up knocking sense into him,” he said.

Bull smiled even as he shook his horns.  “The Boss doesn’t need sense,” he said, staring ahead as if he could make Theo out on the path.  “He needs a purpose.  Kid didn’t have purpose in his family or his life; he gets sent to the Conclave, ends up being in the right place at the right time, and suddenly has the most important purpose in the world.  He got a taste of it.  He liked it.  Now that that Corypheus asshole’s dead, what’s the Boss got?”

“Peace?  Quiet?  A dashingly handsome Tevinter lover by his side and in his bed?” Dorian asked.

“I’m not saying those aren’t worthy, or that he doesn’t have them, Dorian.”  Bull smiled.  “You don’t have to be Ben-Hassrath...or ex Ben-Hassrath,” he added with a wince, “to see how much that man adores you.”

That Bull could still see Theo’s heart on his sleeve made Dorian feel better.  “So you’re saying that as long as he has no purpose, he’ll be insufferably moody?” he asked.

Bull laughed.  “If you want to convert him to the Qun, you’ll have to find someone else.”

Dorian raised an eyebrow at the big Qunari.  “Hardly.  I’d just prefer a little more relaxation.  We’ve all certainly earned it.”

“So tell him,” Bull said with a shrug.  

He made it sound easy enough, and what Dorian was requesting wasn’t a big deal.  When they set up camp for the night Dorian went off in search of Theo.  Dorian found him sitting on a rocky overlook, staring into the gathering darkness.  He sat beside Theo and stared out with him.  Theo didn’t get up, nor did he sigh with irritation.  All good signs.  “Care to tell me what’s going on,  _ Amatus? _ ” Dorian said at last.  “I’m quite good at a great many things, but mind reading is not one of them.”

His heart jumped slightly when Theo reached over and rested his hand on Dorian’s.  “Just thinking,” he said.  His voice was soft, much of the tension of earlier having gone out of it.  As much as Dorian didn’t want to let Theo wander off on his own at times like that, sometimes all he needed was to be alone to stew over his feelings.  “It’s probably going to be a royal shitstorm when we get home.”

“It always is.”

Theo laughed softly.  “I keep remembering when you collapsed during the dragon fight.  I didn’t even take the killing shot on it,” he said.  He turned to face Dorian.  The scruffy beard alone would have made him look older, but the gash along his face made him look experienced.  It would leave a scar.  “I went for you.”

Dorian’s heart fluttered slightly.  “Well.  That’s only the sensible thing,” he said, squeezing Theo’s hand.  “I’m glad to know that I rank over a dragon in your heart of hearts.”  Theo rested his head on Dorian’s shoulder.  “Have you ever considered that maybe we need to stop fighting other people’s battles and start enjoying our hard-won peace?”

Theo was quiet and for a moment Dorian started to feel his heart sink.  “All the time,” Theo finally said.  “Things keep happening that make it clear that peace isn’t achieved yet.”

“If you’re waiting for the whole world to be at peace before you rest, then you’ll be long dead, my dear,” Dorian told him gently.  Theo sighed.  “You were made Inquisitor to deal with the threat of Corypheus.  You’ve done that.  You once asked just how much more needed to be done to prove that the Inquisition, and you as Inquisitor, were forces to be reckoned with.  Need I remind you of what led to  _ that  _ conversation?”  

Theo’s ordeal at the hands of the Venatori in Halamshiral was a wound that had never quite healed properly.  It hadn’t broken him; but it had certainly changed him.  “Thanks for reminding me,” Theo grumbled.

“I can’t make up your mind for you,  _ Amatus. _  But I can ask you, as the man who loves you and shares your bed as well as your adventures, to consider the toll this may be taking on you.  On us.”

“I can’t just give up.”

“I’m not asking you to give up, just to consider what this is doing.”  His fingers slipped beneath the edge of Theo’s fur collar and lightly massaged his neck.  Theo unconsciously loosened up under Dorian’s touch.

They spoke no more about it as the night wore on.  Bull and Krem told stories of former Charger missions to lighten the mood.  The Chargers were still laughing and drinking when Theo nudged Dorian and glanced toward their tent.  Dorian felt a wave of relief; for most of the day he’d wondered if Theo would be in his mood come nightfall.

Dorian cast a small globe of fire that settled into a glass bowl, where it warmed and illuminated the tent.  Theo changed into a pair of loose flannel pants and a woolen shirt.  He combed his hair and tied it back the best he could.  He held out his hand to Dorian as he settled into the nest of blankets and furs.  In the flickering firelight Theo looked almost sad, and it made Dorian’s heart skip a beat.  He wanted to ask Theo was was wrong but he feared the answer.

Instead he lay down next to Theo, who wrapped his arms around him and nuzzled the back of his neck.  Dorian closed his eyes and tried to forget the doubts and fears.  The warmth of the blankets and fire and Theo’s arms quickly made him doze, and as he slipped to sleep he felt Theo’s warm breath on his ear.  “I love you, Dorian,” he whispered before snuggling deep into the blankets.

The doubts faded away.


	5. A Modest Proposal

It took another day to get back into the Redcliffe region of Ferelden.  They didn’t plan to linger, being so close to home.  However, a legion of Fereldan soldiers, bearing both the Redcliffe banner and that of the ruling Theirin family, stopped them as they rode onto the West Road.  “Inquisition!” called the captain of the force.  “Ferelden did not call for your aid!”

Theo reined in his horse, but did not dismount.  He scratched absently at his beard.  “We’re passing through to Skyhold, returning from a mission in the Frostback basin.  We don’t intend to stay.”

“King Alistair’s advisor, Arl Teagan Guerrin of Redcliffe, bids us to escort you to the mountain pass,” the captain said.  He stood straight and tall and his voice sounded certain enough, but his nostrils were slightly flared and he looked a tad pale beneath the sun.

Theo’s brow furrowed.  They’d never needed an escort before.  The Inquisition had saved Redcliffe from a doomed future under Magister Alexius.  They’d all but given Arl Teagan back his lands, and had been welcomed in Ferelden regularly.  “We will be glad for the escort,” Theo said at last in an even voice.  “You may convey our thanks to Arl Teagan, and I will have our ambassador draft up formal thanks when we return to Skyhold.”

“The Arl requires no thanks,” the captain said.  “We would just like to see the armed force leave our lands.”

Theo took a deep breath, but clenched his jaw, nodded, and they rode on.  He didn’t say a word the rest of the day, though Dorian could tell from the tension in his shoulders, and the way his usually well-behaved horse twitched and skittered along the roads, that keeping his mouth shut was not easy.  Theo had always been impulsive, though he’d gotten much better at reining in his emotions.  This was probably killing him.

By nightfall they’d made it into the no-man’s land of the Frostbacks, where the border of Ferelden and Orlais was fuzzy at best.  It would be too dangerous to take the horses through, so they set up one last camp.  “We had no problems when we were going down into the Basin,” Theo finally said, pacing around the campfire.  “We’ve never had a problem with Ferelden before.”

“That you know of,” Bull pointed out, and Theo whirled around to face him.  Bull just leaned back against a rock.  “How much contact do you actually, personally, have with the surrounding areas?”

“That’s what I have Josephine for,” Theo said, but some of the anger had gone out of his voice.

“Josephine’s good to have around,” Bull agreed.  “But when was the last time you checked in with her about the Inquisition’s standing with surrounding lands?”  Theo’s eyes were wide and he was searching for some way of retorting, even when he knew Bull was right.  Bull was almost always right.

“If something was wrong she’d tell me,” Theo finally said, but he wasn’t meeting Bull’s eyes.

“She may have been trying to tell you.”

Theo sighed and rubbed his eyes, then shook his glowing hand.  He clenched his hand into a fist and the bright green light shone through his fingers.  “Then we leave at dawn to get home,” he said at last and disappeared into his tent.  Dorian glanced at Bull, but the big Qunari could only shrug and go back to sipping from his skin while his single eye stared out into the darkness.

Theo hadn’t been wrong about chaos awaiting them when they returned home.  No sooner had he dismounted than Josephine had come flouncing down to the stables, demanding his attentions.  It was clear she was unhappy, because she had a way of flouncing when she wasn’t happy.  Dorian had always watched the way she moved, amazed that so many ruffles could still appear dignified, and deduced that she probably had some form of magic woven into her clothing.  It was the only explanation, and one he often teased her with.  But when she was angry, the magic was gone: her measured steps became stormy and her ruffles flounced.

She was definitely flouncing now as she paced through her office.  “You cannot avoid the Fereldan crown’s requests indefinitely!” she snapped, shoving the rolled parchment into Theo’s face.  “Arl Teagan demands an audience!”

“Then give him one,” Theo snapped, grabbing the rolled parchment from her.  “I’m not stopping him, or you.”  He unrolled the parchment and skimmed over it.  “He doesn’t want an audience.  He wants us to move out.  I let his troops escort us through Redcliffe without complaint.  I don’t see what the problem is.”  Josephine wasn’t pacified though.  He sighed and shook his head.  “Hundreds of people call Skyhold home,” he said after a moment, trying to keep his voice calm, though Dorian could hear the way he trembled. Skyhold was home to Theo as well.  If they moved out, this would be yet another temporary dwelling in a long string.  “We can’t just leave because some disgruntled Arl tells us to.”  He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.  He hadn’t even had a chance to change out of his dusty travel gear.  A few strands of hair fell in his face and dark circles ringed his eyes.

Josephine snatched back the parchment.  “Thank you for sharing the obvious with me, your Worship,” she said.  She impatiently brushed a tendril of dark hair out of her face.  “This… is a delicate balance that must be maintained.”

“Tell him I’m still recovering from saving them from an embodied Avvar god,” Theo suggested.  “Unless of course they think that they would have preferred to deal with it themselves.”

“You are impossible,” Josephine huffed before turning on her heel and flouncing out to the throne room.

Theo sighed and followed her, but she’d already disappeared.  He collapsed into the throne, the centerpiece of the room.  He shifted and threw his legs over one arm of the dragon maw throne.  He rubbed his eyes and scratched at his scruffy beard.  He stared moodily at the drying mud on his boots.  “Don’t say it,” Theo said to Dorian after a few tense moments of silence.

“You _were_ a tad short with her,” Dorian said anyway.  Theo lifted his head and glared at him.  Dorian leaned against the the throne and stared down at Theo.  So much of the earnest, youthful charm he’d fallen in love with had been replaced with the careworn lines of a man who held the weight of the world on his shoulders.  He reached down and trailed his fingers along Theo’s jaw line.  “You work hard, and everyone sees the work you do.  Lady Montilyet orchestrates everything behind the scenes.  If she brings you something to attend to, it is only because she has exhausted her vast swath of options.”

“I thought you were on my side.”

“This isn’t an issue of sides, _Amatus,_ ” Dorian told him.  He folded his hands atop the throne and rested his chin there.  “I love you.  But that doesn’t mean that I must coddle you.  Sometimes you need my encouragement, others you need my honesty.”  Theo swung his legs back around and leaned his elbows on his knees, surveying the throne room.  He said nothing, but his cheeks were tinged with pink.  “What really galls you?” Dorian asked softly, staring at his back.

“When we settled here I told myself this was it,” Theo said softly.  “Home.  After Haven was destroyed and so many followed us, I can’t have been the only one.  I don’t know what to do, Dorian. It’s never enough.”

Having grown up a prodigy mage in Tevinter, who still managed never to meet any expectations, Dorian could sympathize.  Yet when he had realized that, he had walked away.  It wasn’t worth his time, energy, or talents.  And when he’d done that he’d found the Inquisition, and Theo.  He told Theo all of this, and the Inquisitor smiled and allowed Dorian to lead him to their room, where they snuggled deep into the pile of blankets on the bed.  Dorian started a fire with a flick of his wrist and hoped, as he drifted off to sleep, that it would be enough to abate Theo’s melancholy.  It was getting harder and harder to do these days.

* * *

 

Dorian woke to raised voices floating up the stairwell.  It was later in the morning; He was still tired from their adventures in the Frostbacks and he stuck his head under the pillow and tried to go back to sleep, but his curiosity won out.  He sat up and leaned on one elbow, cocking his ear toward the stairs and then he grimaced.  Josephine again.  He was surprised the ambassador didn’t just quit, though with the way Theo had been lately, he supposed the Inquisition needed all the diplomatic perks it could muster.

“You still should have told me!” she shouted.

Theo’s footfalls on the stone stairs.  “I didn’t think she’d actually _agree_ to it!  Otherwise I would have.”

“You do realize what we’ll have to do to prepare…”

“Cassandra saw this place at its very worst.  I’m sure she’ll be pleased with the improvements.”

Josephine swore in Antivan and Dorian heard the door slam.  Theo appeared at the top of the stairs and winced when he saw Dorian sitting up, not even bothering to hide that he’d been listening.  His cheeks reddened and he ran a hand through his hair.  “Yes I heard it, yes it woke me up, yes, you’re going to explain, but only after you get back into bed with me,” Dorian told him, patting the sheets beside him.  Theo was fully dressed, but he joined Dorian anyway. They laid back against a bolster, Theo leaning his head on Dorian’s shoulder.  “The Divine?  Really?” Dorian finally asked as he absently ran his hand through Theo’s hair, brushing the long strands away from his face.

“I didn’t think she’d be able to come, so I figured no harm in asking,” Theo told him.  He wrapped his arm around Dorian’s torso.  “I was trying to find a way to tell Josephine that wouldn’t result in her wanting to eviscerate me.  Apparently I failed.”  Dorian felt him smile.

“What could be so important that you’d need to secretly send word to the Divine?” Dorian asked, glancing down, but Theo would not meet his eyes.  Dorian’s heart fluttered when, for a moment, he saw vestiges of Theo’s shy, sweet side that he’d missed so much during the trip into the Frostbacks.

Theo closed his eyes and tightened his hold for a moment.  “When we faced Hakkon I was so scared I’d lose you.”

“It took Hakkon to make that happen?” Dorian asked, incredulous.  “The Venatori, Red Templars, Corypheus… were they just practice for a dragon?”

Theo sat up and lightly swatted his arm.  “That, on top of everything about Ameridan and Telana.  I’ve been a brat, Dorian, I know that, and I’m sorry.  I…” He took a deep breath.  “I’ve felt very lost lately, but I know I’d be even more lost without you.”

Now he was staring at Dorian, his face blotchy red with fear and embarrassment and his green mark sparking violently from whatever emotions he was holding back.  “Theodane.   _Amatus._  What are you…”  Dorian swallowed.  It wasn’t like him to feel so nervous, and he didn’t like it one bit.  He felt his mustache twitching and his breathing hitch in his lungs.  And was that sweat on his palms?

“Cassandra agreed to officiate our vows.  I mean, if you said yes, of course.”  Now Theo stared at the sheets and bit on his lip.  His pulse was pounding so hard Dorian could see it fluttering at the base of his throat.

“You summoned the Divine to officiate a marriage?” Dorian asked, trying so, so very hard to sound offended.  It was his turn to swat Theo’s shoulder.  “And what made you so confident I would say yes?”  He held his breath.

“Um… other than me being an ass lately, I didn’t think you had a reason to say no?” Theo asked.  His cheeks were blotchier, his nostrils slightly flared.

Theo was a man who didn’t know how to ignore risks, who barreled headlong into things and trusted his supernatural luck to save him.  But luck had nothing to do with this.  Dorian should have felt scared, should have wanted to run as far and as fast as possible.  But he grabbed Theo’s shirt in his fists and crushed his mouth against Theo’s lips and could barely breathe from squishing his nose into Theo’s face.  It was the sloppiest, most undignified kiss Dorian had probably given in his life and he didn’t care.

He gave off an air of absolute certainty at all times; he’d grown up having to, and it had become a part of him.  Theo was the one person who knew how uncertain life could be for the both of them, and now he was asking Dorian to be his, forever.  He offered support, loyalty, stability, and unconditional love: things his own family never had, and never could.

“This wasn’t how I planned,” Theo said, but he was smiling and his green eyes were glassy with tears.  He cupped Dorian’s cheek and ran his thumb over his cheekbone.  “There was going to be breakfast.  And a speech.”

“This is perfect,” Dorian told him.  His mind reeled with feelings he couldn’t feel all at once and it left him dizzy.  Above all was relief, relief that the gulf between them had narrowed, and may perhaps have disappeared entirely.  He leaned back and pulled Theo into a deep kiss.  “Now.  Let me ravage you properly to celebrate.”

          


	6. Diplomacy Check

The problem with Theo was he always seemed to catch Dorian off guard.  It was usually pleasant and Dorian didn’t mind it.  But by that evening he realized exactly what this meant: Cassandra, Divine Victoria herself, was going to preside over the nuptials of the celebrated Inquisitor, to his betrothed from Tevinter.  The implications were enough to make Dorian dizzy and panicked, two feelings he did not care for.

Dorian slipped off to his usual library nook, a place of comfort that he’d carved out for himself when they’d first settled in Skyhold.  At first the croaks of the ravens and the breezes from the rookery one floor up had irked him, but now they were just part of the charm of the place.

He mindlessly grabbed a book and huddled into the high-backed chair he’d claimed.  Rather than worry with a candle he conjured a pale wisp of magelight that hovered over his shoulder, illuminating the page in a faint white-blue.  He turned the pages slowly, but wasn’t reading.  His mind spun with what had happened and what he’d agreed to.  

Even if he  _ wanted _ to back out, he couldn’t.  He didn’t  _ want _ to, necessarily; but a little warning may have been nice.  He loved Theo; there was no questioning that.  And all of Thedas knew their beloved Inquisitor was in love with the mage from Tevinter. Thoughts of his homeland sparked memories of vineyards and olive groves; sparkling blue seas (beautiful even though he got sick just standing on a dock) and the sun-baked streets of Minrathous.  Dorian loved Tevinter, too.  It wasn’t fear of spending forever with Theo; it was fear of spending forever away from the Tevinter Imperium that made him feel tingly and nauseous whenever he thought of the sudden plans for the future.

“Congratulations, Dorian.”  He glanced up in mild annoyance, but relaxed when he saw Leliana.  He gestured to another chair in his nook and she sat down.  Leliana was smiling, her blue eyes shimmering but still calculating in the pale magical light.  “You make him happy,” she finally said.  “Perhaps now he will stop feeling the need to seek out a fight.”

“You noticed that too, then,” Dorian said.  He closed the book he wasn’t reading and shifted to face the spymaster.  “I’m pleased I make him happy; then again, look at me.  I’m glorious.  How could I not make someone happy?” he asked, and she chuckled. “Though I’m not sure I want to be responsible for keeping him in line.”

“That’s not all that’s bothering you,” she said, fixing her gaze on his face.  Dorian was good at hiding his emotions; he could play with the best bards and put most masked Orlesians to shame.  Unfortunately for him, Leliana was preternaturally perceptive.  “I know you, Dorian,” she said and he quirked an eyebrow, waiting for her to go on.  “You want to do things on your terms, and he one-ups you.” 

“True, I did not wake up this morning expecting to be on the receiving end of a proposal—one that I’d actually agree to,” he said, feeling the warm flush creep into his cheeks.  “And then he managed to convince the Divine herself to preside?”

“Cassandra is still a friend of the Inquisition’s members, even if Divine Victoria must be neutral,” Leliana said with a shrug.  Then her face broke into a grin.  “Do you want revenge?” she asked.

“I’ve seen your definition of revenge,” Dorian said, and her smirk intensified.  Though, the thought of beating Theo at his own game was so very, very tempting.  “What did you have in mind?”

* * *

 

It should have been an event to rival the ball at the Winter Palace in Halamshiral two years ago, and it was evidently driving Josephine to the brink of insanity not being allowed to send for guests.  “It’s not a political move,” Theo told her, standing at the window in her office.  He leaned his forehead against the glass, eyes closed.  “I’m not intentionally slighting Empress Celene, especially if she doesn’t know about this.  Varric is coming as my friend, not as the Viscount of Kirkwall.  Same with Cassandra.”  He sighed and his breath steamed up the window panes.  “Everything we’ve ever done has been a huge production.  I just want this to be small.  Intimate.  The people I care about.”  He turned back to Josephine and gently took the quill from her hand and replaced it in the inkwell.

Josephine did not quite flounce, but Dorian could tell from his position in a chair before the fireplace that she was having a hard time restraining herself.  “If you do this for him, he’ll deal with Ferelden for you,” Dorian said with a grin.  Josephine’s face lit up and Theo’s eyes widened.  “Simple give and take.  And I’m also amused at the irony that the Inquisitor and his ambassador need  _ me  _ to be the diplomat,” he added.  Theo was staring at him, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head and his cheeks flushed deep crimson.  “Now if you’ll excuse us, dear Inquisitor, Lady Montilyet and I have some business to attend to.”  Theo blinked, not quite understanding he was being dismissed.

“You’re lucky I love you,” he finally told Dorian, but he was smiling.  He scooped up several scrolls from Josephine’s desk, all marked with the Fereldan seal.  He gave Dorian a kiss on the cheek before he left. 

The heavy wooden door clicked shut behind him.  Dorian nearly held his breath and a moment later glanced at Josephine, who was doing likewise.  They let out their collective sigh of relief and he couldn’t help a slightly nervous chuckle as well.  While Theo wouldn’t be quite  _ angry _ with him for this, Dorian certainly preferred to have the element of surprise on his side.  “So?” he asked Josephine.

She settled back in her chair and tucked a wayward curl behind her ear.  “It is… funny in a way that you should mention being diplomatic,” she said.  It was not what he’d been expecting to hear and he nodded for her to continue. She sighed and folded her hands on her desk. “I’d have hoped the mountains of correspondence would have dwindled, but with each new accomplishment, more people seek the Inquisitor’s graces.”

“They do,” Dorian agreed.  He tried to understand that it was all part of who Theo was and what he represented to the people of Thedas.  But it was hard not to feel slighted occasionally.  “What does this have to do with me and diplomacy?  Other than smoothing Theodane’s occasional rough edges, I’m no politician.”

“No, you’re not,” Josephine said with a smile.  “But you are the strongest link between the Inquisition and the Imperium.”  Dorian had lost count of how many times his stomach had dropped in the last few days.  “The Imperium has named you their official ambassador to the Inquisition.  I suppose congratulations are in order?”  She watched him with a critical eye.

“This means I have to go back now.”  His voice sounded far away over the roar in his ears.  He’d tossed around the phrase ‘just a little while longer’ so breezily whenever anyone asked him how long he’d stay with the Inquisition.  And now a little while was up, and it was up just when he’d agreed to stay by Theo’s side forever.  “Though it may have been nice if they asked me first.”

“I can of course explain that you will be indisposed for a short time,” Josephine offered.  She sounded sympathetic.  He was evidently doing a terrible job at controlling his emotions.  “And as for  _ that _ … all is progressing on schedule.  I received word this morning.”

Dorian nodded his thanks and smiled, not trusting himself to speak.  He feared that if he opened his mouth he’d projectile vomit all over her desk.  Even as he wordlessly excused himself he realized he would be going home for the first time in years.  He paused to look around at the stolid stone walls and high ceilings of Skyhold.  This was home, too. 

He’d spent months wandering aimlessly all over Thedas before finding his place at Theo’s side.  He’d told off his father and sent Halward back to Tevinter with his tail dragging like a sad mabari.  He’d entertained thoughts of going back in the last year or so, but waking up beside Theo in their soft, warm bed with the bright morning light reflecting off the mountains had made it little more than a pleasant dream.   Now, he  _ had _ to go back.  Even if Josephine bought him some time, it certainly threw his future plans for a loop.

Theo was sitting at his desk up in their quarters.  He kept running a hand through his hair and tapping a quill against the parchment.  Several scrolls with pieces of broken red wax seals were scattered to the side.  Dorian paused at the top of the stairs and stared for a moment.  Theo’s cheeks were flushed and his hair was a mess.  Dorian felt a smile tug at his lips.  Theo truly was the only person he wanted to spend the rest of his days with.  Even with the thought of returning to Tevinter compounding his nerves, he realized it could work.  If the Inquisition could pull back from being a military force, if Theo could settle down, maybe they could even establish a home in the Imperium together.  Live quietly, eat peeled grapes, soak up the sun…

“Now’s not a good time to say ‘I told you so,’” Theo said without looking up.  “But if you’re spying for Josephine, I am making my best effort to appease his highness.  Or should I say his highness’s paranoid advisor.”  He dropped the quill.  “I get the feeling nothing I say will be enough.”

“It pains me that you think so little of my intentions.”  Dorian flopped onto the settee across the room.

Theo ran his hand through his hair.  “I’m sorry.  I feel like I can’t do anything right lately.”  He crossed the room and joined Dorian.  “Politics, friendships, love…” He rested his hand on Dorian’s knee.  “There was a time, not long ago, when everything I said or did was exactly what people needed.  And now it feels like every step I take is just one step closer to an edge I can’t see.”

“You are too hard on yourself,” Dorian told him.  “And you focus too inwardly.  Perhaps if you tried to see what others see you’d feel more at ease.”

“Others see a bumbling child who can’t do anything right.”

Dorian sighed.  “You’re so certain of that?  Or perhaps that’s what you fear they see, and that’s why you either avoid the things you fear, or dive in headlong and recklessly?”  It was clear that Theo wanted to argue, but he couldn’t.  “I fell in love with a man who had no idea what he was doing, and wasn’t bothered by that.  I fell in love with a man who wasn’t afraid of possibility, and who looked outward to see what he could do, because it needed to be done--not because he was constantly trying to prove himself.  And I still love that man, even if he has lost his way a bit,” he added, turning his hand palm-up to clasp Theo’s hand.

“Maker’s balls.  I can hardly stand myself these days. I don’t know how you put up with me,” Theo told him.  He pulled Dorian into an embrace.  

“Because I know this will be worth it in the long run.”  Dorian believed it; he had to believe it.  He’d watched his parents as he grew up.  Their marriage was a loveless arrangement of convenience and duty.  His relationship with Theo was nothing like that.  He knew he’d be foolish to think they would never have problems.  “I won’t lie though,” he said.  “You have been a bit of an ass of late.  And, for the fun of it, I told you so.”

Theo smiled and Dorian felt him relax a bit.  “I deserve that.”

Dorian nudged him.  “Go.  Finish your missive.  It doesn’t have to be perfect. You won’t make all people happy at all times now that there’s no unifying threat.  But just being there when you need to be will go much further than chasing dragons and legends and avoiding it altogether.”

“For that matter, I don’t know why  _ I _ put up with  _ you _ ,” Theo teased.  He gave Dorian a light kiss and headed back over to the desk.

“You know exactly why.  I’m dashing, intelligent, witty, handsome, talented, fantastic in bed… shall I go on?”

Theo didn’t answer, but he was smiling, and then he did that little lip bite he did when he was concentrating.  At last he scrawled his signature and waved his hand rapidly over the parchment to dry the ink.  He rang for a servant and handed the parchment off to be delivered to Josephine, and added that he would be taking dinner in his chambers this evening.

“We are?” Dorian asked him.  

Theo flopped on the bed and batted his eyes at Dorian.  “I’ve had people calling on me left and right.  I’d like some time together.  Just us.”

Dorian wouldn’t be able to write his letter home, to ask about his appointments in Tevinter, or to check in on his other plans that were set in motion.  But Theo was trying.  And as they nibbled on a light dinner later on, before the fire with the moonlight slanting in through the tall windows, Theo was focused entirely on Dorian.  This made it particularly difficult to bring up the topic of leaving.

Dorian leaned back on the rug and flicked his wrist toward the hearth.  A small burst of flame caught and the fire burned brighter and warmer.  Theo sipped at his wine and sighed contentedly.  “I think you have an idea there about retiring comfortably,” he said with a grin.

“That may not be possible,” Dorian finally told him.  Theo’s green eyes narrowed and he tensed up once more.  It was just what Dorian had been afraid of.  He explained Josephine’s message about becoming an ambassador to Tevinter.  “It’s not forever, and I’m not expected to stay indefinitely,” he said.

Theo took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “I… I understand.  It only makes sense.  If the Inquisition hopes to formally establish and maintain ties with Tevinter, we need you to do this.”  He stared at the fire, jaw clenched.

Dorian scooted closer to Theo.  He gently turned his chin, making Theo face him.  “And what of you?  What are your thoughts on this?”

Theo didn’t have to think.  “I don’t want you to go,” he said with a shrug.  “Especially so soon after we’ve formalized our union.”  He smiled slightly.  “I could go with you,” he offered.

“Much as I would love that, it may not be the best idea,” Dorian said.  “Please, don’t look that way, love.  There’s a reason Tevinter’s symbol is the serpent.  The Imperium is a den of snakes, and matters of politics are handled best by insiders.  Lady Montilyet has done well securing what influence she can, but she recognizes the need for an insider.  And more practically speaking, it would be dangerous for you.  I’d hate for us to marry, only for you to be poisoned mere weeks later.”

Theo’s face was crestfallen, but he nodded his agreement.  “You know the Imperium better than anyone here.  I trust you and your judgment.”  He took a sip of his wine and leaned back.  The orange glow of the fire made him look softer.  “Tell me about Tevinter.  Anything about it.  Everything about it.”

Dorian poured himself another glass.  “Why?”

“You always look so happy when you talk about it,” Theo said.  “It makes me glad to see you so happy.”  He smiled and glanced shyly at Dorian, looking up through his long lashes.

Dorian told him of citrus groves and sunbaked cobblestones, of ancient buildings held together by magic, and of aquamarine seas and the stories sailors told about jewel-finned mermaids.  Theo listened intently, and by the end of Dorian’s musings they were snuggled on the bed in each other’s arms.  Dorian hoped that someday things would be simpler and the Imperium could find a peaceful existence with the rest of Thedas.  But that day was far off, at least until he could help to engineer that accord.  For now he would have to settle for enjoying the time he had with Theo prior to his departure.

It was only when he was lying in bed later that night, the moonlight slicing across the sheets and casting sharp shadows on Theo’s sleeping face, that he realized that, since they’d met they’d only been apart once and it had been under the worst circumstances imaginable.  And this time, he’d be parting of his own volition. 


	7. Union

Skyhold was full of secrets.  Even though they’d been settled here almost three years, there were still small rooms that had yet to be explored, secret passages, and narrow halls that had yet to be repaired because they were so out of the way.  And then Leliana had her ways of hiding, and her spies deployed even within the walls of the keep.  Combined with Theo’s preoccupation with the tense politics, it was easy to sneak in his whole family and house them in a repaired yet distant wing of Skyhold.

Dorian had met the Trevelyans once before.  They’d come to celebrate the victory over Corypheus, and make amends in the process for years of misunderstanding and lack of communication.  It was the kind of reconciliation that Dorian knew he’d never have from his own family, so he cherished it for Theo.  Though Theo wanted to keep this a small affair, Dorian had known that the Trevelyan family would wish to be present.

Besides, Skyhold was busier preparing itself for the arrival of Divine Victoria.  Her duties in Val Royeaux kept the Divine busy, but Cassandra, the woman behind the vestments, would always be Theo’s friend first and foremost.  Dorian had been mortified when Theo had first let it slip that he’d asked the Divine herself to officiate for them, but over the last couple of weeks he realized that he wouldn’t want anyone other than Cassandra doing it.  

Still, it didn’t help abate any of his day-of nerves.  “I don’t see how marriage will change the course of our relationship,” Dorian told Theo.  It was the morning of their ceremony, and Dorian was still lazing in their bed.  “This bed will still be our bed. We’ve consummated our love for one another countless times.”

Theo tied his hair back and flexed his left hand.  The green mark didn’t shine any brighter, but more often Dorian noticed him clenching his hand or shaking it out, as if it was paining him.  Suddenly he wondered just how badly the mark affected Theo.  How much the magic hurt, and how much that pain spread, and then he wondered if the sudden proposal and rush to solidify their union had anything to do with it.  “You’re not dying are you?” he asked Theo, his voice soft.

“Not that I know of.”  But Theo’s equally soft tone, and the way he stared down at his hand, sent a chill through Dorian.  “You’re not backing out, are you?” he teased.

“Not that _I_ know of.”  Dorian padded over to Theo, who’d chosen to wear the blue and gray Trevelyan colors over his usual favored greens.  Dorian gave him a quick peck on the cheek.  “I’ll see you in a few hours.” Theo glanced at him quizzically.  “I’d like to up the anticipation.  I want to see the look on your face when I walk in.”

“You’re not going to wear ten silk scarves are you?” Theo asked with a grin.

“Maybe later tonight,” Dorian said with a wink as he disappeared down the stairs.  He slipped through the halls of Skyhold, barely seen.  By all rights today should have been a busy, bustling day, but Leliana and Josephine had managed to keep things relatively quiet.  How those women were even human, Dorian had no idea.  And how they managed to work such magic without being mages was even more impressive.

He should be primping and preening, but there would be plenty of time for that later.  Right now he had to take care of the unpleasant task of writing to his father, letting him know the particulars of his impending state visit to the Imperium.  Better to get it done now, when he was in a good mood.

Dorian headed up to his nook in the library and began writing.  He tried several beginnings, only to crumple the parchment and incinerate it with a snap of his fingers.  He probably should have thought to use a palimpsest, but at least burning the false starts helped work off the build up of nervous mana.  At last he had something that was just enough to let his father know he was committed to returning to Tevinter, but only for the short term for the time being.

Suddenly he realized why this all meant so much to Theo.  Dorian knew no one in Tevinter high society would take their relationship seriously.  It didn’t bother him; while he loved Tevinter fiercely, Tevinter society was an entirely different thing.  Here in the south few people so much as batted an eye about anything other than the fact that Dorian was from Tevinter.  But today this was about legitimizing their relationship for the entirety of Thedas to see.

For Theo, this was as much a risky move as it was a romantic one.  Dorian wished he could sneak Theo into Tevinter with him.  Having Theo at his side could make this so much more bearable.  He took a deep breath before sealing the letter and taking it to be sent off.  If Theo, the most powerful man in Thedas, was willing to take such risks, then so was he.

 

* * *

 

Cassandra looked ridiculous, and her expression clearly said that she knew it.  The white, red and gold mitre looked slightly off balance on her head, and every so often she went to rest her hand on a sword pommel that wasn’t there.  She had managed to shoo away her acolytes and stood in the antechamber beside the altar in Skyhold’s chapel.  “Your Perfection,” Dorian said by way of greeting, bowing low.

“Ugh.”  Cassandra shook her head.  “If I could I would dispose of titles altogether.  But I don’t think the world is ready for that much change as of yet.”  She grinned.  “There will be time for talk later, but I hope you are well, Dorian.  I think often of you and the Theodane.”

Most people referred to him as the Inquisitor in reverent tones or hushed whispers.  But Cassandra had known him even before Dorian had.  While she would always be Cassandra to him, he would always be Theo to her.  “And we are grateful that you’ve come to join us,” Dorian replied.  

Her gray eyes were a bit softer than they usually were.  She was a hard woman, all angles and edges, and just what the Chantry had needed to get back on track after the Conclave and the Inquisition.  “I’d have killed him if he’d asked any other Revered Mother and he knows it.  And I have other business that would have brought me here sooner rather than later.”  The way she said ‘business’ and the look on her face made Dorian’s heart sink, just when he was starting to feel better after all.

But his spirits rallied once more when Theo entered through a hidden passage.  Even though Dorian had seen him earlier that morning, something was… different.  Then he took a good long look and realized that Theo had shaved, but also had his hair trimmed up and had a healer look at the wound running down his face.  The stitches were gone, and while it was definitely going to scar, it wasn’t the angry red gash it had been.  He looked… almost like when they’d first met.  Even down to the blushing cheeks and slight shyness in his green eyes.  Of course the innocence would never be there again; he’d seen and been through too much.  But just having this much of a glimpse of Theo like this made Dorian nearly choke up with tears.

And then, to top it off: “Do I look alright?” Theo asked, and bit his lip.

Dorian stepped forward to pull Theo into a crushing kiss but Cassandra held out her arm to block him.  She was still quite strong, and Dorian suspected that she’d been training with her sword and shield whenever she could get a chance.  “You can wait,” she snapped, but the corner of her mouth twitched just a bit as she tried to suppress a smile.  “We keep this short and sweet, like we agreed,” she said, looking between Theo and Dorian, who both nodded as if they were still back in the early days of the Inquisition, and didn’t dare question Cassandra.

Cassandra straightened her mitre and squared her shoulders before walking out.  Theo flashed a suddenly nervous glance at Dorian when he heard startled gasps from the guests, who shouldn’t have numbered above a handful.  “I have surprises too, Amatus,” Dorian said, giving him a quick kiss before shoving him out to the altar.

The Skyhold chapel was small and intimate, and nearly full to capacity.  Dorian was used to all eyes on him, even in delicate situations, so he made himself relaxed.  Across from him, Theo looked jittery, especially once he realized his entire family was there, smiling at him in the pews.  His three older sisters were already teary-eyed, which made Dorian smile.  For so much of his life, Theo had thought he didn’t matter to his family.  And now here they were.  All of them: the Trevelyans, Bull, Krem and the Chargers, Cullen, Leliana, Josephine, and Varric.

 _I’ll kill you later,_ Theo mouthed.

 _Ten silk scarves,_ Dorian mouthed back.

Half of their guests were Inquisition and only knew the Divine as Cassandra.  They were relaxed, leaning back in the pews and grinning.  The Trevelyan family, however, sat at strict attention.  They were pious, faithful servants of the Chantry.  To be in the same _room_ as the Divine was an extreme honor.  But to have the Divine herself presiding over their son’s wedding ceremony had them all on edge, as if they were afraid of being struck down for breathing wrong.  Dorian had to struggle to keep from grinning.

“Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow.  In their blood the Maker’s will is written,” Cassandra began.  “The will of the Maker is a mystery to all.  When I declared the Inquisition and then later named Theodane Trevelyan Inquisitor, I did not know just how much the Maker’s will included him.  I did not know that, when he chose to go to Redcliffe and aid the rebel mages, the Maker’s will would include us meeting a great ally, and especially not that His will would result in Theodane meeting his greatest love.  Aside from Andraste,” Cassandra added with a slight smile.

Theo’s eyes twinkled and he bit his lip to keep from laughing aloud.  Varric’s guffaws, however, could be heard easily.  Bull and Krem’s laughter sounded like poorly disguised coughing.  The poor Trevelyans looked mystified.

Dorian barely registered anything Cassandra said after that.  He stared at Theo the whole time, taking in his sparkling green eyes, blushing cheeks, and the way he lightly bit his lip.  His innocent look, even after all he’d done and endured the last few years.  

Theo reached out and took his hand.  Dorian blinked, caught off guard.  “Dorian of House Pavus, will you take Theodane Trevelyan as yours in the Maker’s sight until the Day of Exaltation?” Cassandra asked.

Dorian regained his composure and gave Cassandra a haughty glance.  “I hardly think you’d be here if the answer was going to be anything other than yes,” he told her.  “ _I_ wouldn’t be here if the answer was anything other than yes, and we all know it.”  At that their friends lost what decorum they’d had and burst out laughing.  Even Theo’s family was able to giggle a bit nervously.  Being from Tevinter, and of course just being Dorian, had some perks.  “And you, _Amatus?”_

“A thousand times, yes.  Always,” Theo said, staring into his eyes with an intensity Dorian had never seen before in all the time they’d been together.

Theo’s hands were shaking as he slipped a simple golden band on Dorian’s finger.  It was simpler than just about anything else Dorian wore; but as a result it stood out.  Dorian slipped a matching ring on Theo’s finger, and Cassandra pronounced them one.  “Kiss him already,” Cassandra said, rolling her eyes.

Theo pulled Dorian into him, hands crushing the samite of his robes and his lips soft and intense on Dorian’s.  He smelled like soap and a little like pine, like the resin he used to polish his bow.  Like waking up in camp, or in bed in the morning with the sun shining through the tall windows.  Like something too good to be true, but so very real, and so completely his.   

The guests rose as the two made their way past the pews and out into the garden.  Dorian paused to take a deep breath of fresh air and steady his breathing in order to calm his racing heart.  “Why did you go and do that?” Theo asked, waving his glowing hand toward the chapel. “My family.  You even got Maranda to come.  Why?  And how did you do it without me finding out?” he added suddenly, but he was grinning from ear to ear, eyes shimmering with happy tears.

“Because I’m tired of you constantly surprising me,” Dorian said.  He ran his thumb over Theo’s jaw.  “I had to have a few things up my sleeve as well, _Amatus_.”  He looked down at his simple gold ring, and then at Theo, who’d changed his ring over to his right hand.  “Something the matter?”

Theo shrugged.  “Whatever Dagna may have woven into these seems to be making my hand hurt more.”  He shoved his clenched left hand into his pocket and forced a smile.  “It’s nothing I can’t--”

“You let _Dagna_ forge our wedding bands?” Dorian asked, incredulous.  “You know full well she made our rings into some sort of scientific experiment!”

“I wouldn’t have trusted anyone else though,” Theo said.  “She knows what she’s doing.  Then again, maybe she did nothing at all, and my hand is just acting up.  Either way, I think it looks nice on you,” he said with a shy smile.  He ran his fingers over Dorian’s hand.  “Are you happy?”

“What sort of idiotic question is that?” Dorian asked, catching Theo’s hand in his.  “Of course I am, _Amatus_.”  He pulled Theo into another deep kiss.  And he was.  The relief in Theo’s green eyes, the flush in his cheeks, and the warm sunlight shining down into Skyhold filled Dorian with giddy glee.  Then the guests exited the chapel and joined them, laughing and hugging in the gardens.  Theo shook his brother’s hand and hugged his parents and sisters.  He swung his nieces and nephews in the air and they shrieked with laughter.  

Bann Trevelyan came over and offered Dorian his hand.  “I’ve waited twenty-six years to see my son happy.  Truly happy.  Thank you,” he said.

Dorian smiled.  “Your son is a stubborn pain in the arse,” he said.  “But you already knew that.”

Bann Trevelyan chuckled.  “He takes after me in that regard, unfortunately.  This isn’t the plan I would ever have envisioned for him, but it’s the one that suits him perfectly.  A father can’t ask for more than that.”

Dorian just nodded and smiled again.  His own life hadn’t followed the path his father would have wanted, and rather than accept it and see to his son’s happiness, Halward Pavus had tried to change him to fit Tevinter standards.  And he was going to have to face the man again in less than a fortnight.  He gazed around the sunny garden, filled with people who truly cared about him and his happiness, and then he caught Theo’s sparkling eyes.  He didn’t want to leave, but just knowing that Theo would be waiting for him when he returned made it bearable.


	8. Where Magic Rules

Cassandra wouldn't stay long, but before she left she called Theo into a private meeting. Though they were officially married now, Theo was still the Inquisitor and Cassandra still the Divine, and there was only so much politically that Dorian could be privy to. So he spent the afternoon packing what he could. He had no doubt that once he returned to Tevinter his father would be sending for tailors; Dorian had never fully abandoned his Tevinter style, but even he had to admit there was a bit too much southern flair to his look now. He'd never quite transitioned over to the ridiculous and impractical robes that southern mages wore; but his leather mage armor was soft and worn, and the Vyrantium Samite enchanted robe he regularly wore over it was dulled from his many travels. Perhaps going home would be good, if just for the improvements to his wardrobe.

"Packing already."

Dorian turned to see Theo at the top of the stairs. He looked pale and tired, as if the happiness of the other day had drained him completely. His stubble was bordering on scruff once more, and he kept his left hand clenched in a tight fist curled against his stomach. "You look horrible," Dorian told him, dropping a robe in his trunk. "The meeting with Cassandra did not go well, I take it."

Theo shook his head. He made his way over to Dorian's wardrobe and thumbed through the clothes that Dorian hadn't yet selected. He pulled a few things out and laid them on the bed next to Dorian's open trunk. "Ferelden thinks we're encroaching on their borders," he finally said. "And Orlais wouldn't mind having more of a say in how we run."

"And what did you say to that?"

He sighed. "That Ferelden is paranoid and Orlais can go… well, use your imagination," Theo said, but he wasn't smiling. "Orlais owes us too large a debt to think they have that kind of power, essentially." He stared at the floor.

"Wrong answers, I take it."

"You know me. I've never been the brightest candle politically." He still didn't smile. "After the Frostback Basin incidents… well… Cassandra's been trying to mediate this all behind the scenes for a long time, but if she keeps it up she won't be politically neutral any longer. She took a big risk marrying us. The best she could do was call an Exalted Council, where Ferelden, Orlais, and the Chantry will meet with the Inquisition and we'll decide what happens next." Theo's voice was steady, but strained.

"When?"

"As soon as a fortnight, as far out as two months." Theo fell back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. "I keep running everything through my mind over and over and I can't think of what I did wrong," he said.

"You're powerful," Dorian told him, reclining next to him. He stared up at the beams of the ceiling. "It doesn't matter that you've done everything you can for the good of Thedas. You're powerful, and that challenges some people, and frightens others. I saw it all the time back home. Power requires a certain ratio of risk and caution. Overly cautious Magisters usually get nothing done and aren't remembered. But overly risky ones usually turn up dead of mysterious causes sooner rather than later."

"Is there room in your trunk for me? I don't think I'd take up too much space," Theo said, turning and smiling slightly at Dorian.

"Much as I would adore having you along…." Dorian sighed. "Orlais and Ferelden are essentially fighting over the Inquisition. I'm sure Tevinter is watching, waiting to see how this will play out. It's no coincidence, my being summoned home at this time." He grimaced.

"This is the second time in just minutes you've mentioned Tevinter as 'home'," Theo told him.

"It's where I was born and raised. You can take me out of Tevinter, but you'll never take Tevinter out of me," Dorian told him. He rolled onto his side. "This is also home, _Amatus_. You're my husband now. Let me go back and see what the situation is. Let's get through this council. And then we can decide on what we truly wish for our future." Dorian ran his fingers through Theo's hair. "I'm putting in my vote now for quiet retirement. Someplace warm, and preferably with a high wall and a locked gate so no one can disturb us."

"I'm loving this idea already." Theo leaned in and kissed him.

"I'm full of good ideas, _Amatus_."

* * *

It had been years since Dorian had been in the Imperium. He'd left without looking back, though he'd long held his homeland in his heart. It made for a difficult journey as he considered what home truly meant to him now, in light of Theo's comment.

His tent was chilly and empty during the nights they spent camping, moving ever north and west with a contingent of Cullen's best soldiers and Leliana's stealthiest scouts. The closer he came to the borders of the Tevinter Imperium, the more he wondered why he'd been summoned now of all times. Dorian fluffed the thin pillow as much as he could and stared at the darkened tent wall, absently twisting his golden band on his left hand. He also knew he'd have to face his father. The last time he'd seen Halward he'd made it clear that he didn't have it in him to forgive his father for all he'd done. He still wasn't sure that he did.

Theo had forgiven Bann Trevelyan; so much of the gulf in their relationship had been the result of mixed communication and expectations and religious politics. Halward Pavus, on the other hand, had completely betrayed his son. There was nothing mixed about understanding that. But after facing his father two and a half years ago, Dorian no longer felt the seething bitterness of betrayal; just a wariness and a weariness about the inevitable reunion.

Dorian knew it the moment they crossed the border from Orlais into Tevinter. Only once had he come back this route, and the experience hadn't been pleasant. But somehow, this time he knew. The air was warmer, with humidity drifting in from the Nocen Sea. He breathed deep and the warm breeze brought the scent of a nearby citrus grove. A funny pang lodged deep in his stomach as he thought of growing up, wealthy and privileged, in a land where magic ruled. He was home.

* * *

Minrathous was old. No one could say just how old, but it was well-documented that some of the very oldest buildings still stood at the very center of the city. The city had been built up and out and now stood as the glittering jewel of the Imperium. Even if Tevinter wasn't what it once had been, it was still glorious, and it was still Dorian's home. Coming here, after nearly four years away, made him realize just how much of himself he'd left behind. Of course, he'd found more than he'd ever hoped to find, he thought, feeling the alien weight of the gold band on his finger. But in truth, he'd missed being in Tevinter.

Dorian tried to remain relaxed and poised in the carriage as it bumped up and down over the uneven cobblestones, but he felt a tingling in his pores that he'd not felt since leaving the Imperium's borders. Even places of magic and power in the south of Thedas hadn't had the same draw or strength as the Imperium did. It was a gentle thrum that sang through his veins, reminding him that magic had made the city, and that he possessed magical ability. Magic brought everything together.

Of course not all was this sense of magical joy. Soporati beggars clustered in crumbling alcoves, dusty rags draped over their frail bodies. Ten, twenty years ago he probably wouldn't have given them a second glance, but that was before seeing the things he'd seen with the Inquisition. He'd been in a place where mages were treated not much better than these beggars. He dug into his pockets and pulled out a fistful of coins. The Inquisition's coffers were deep, after all. He slid open the shutter of the window and tossed the coins out. He sighed; the problems caused by the social stratification of Tevinter ran deep, and showed no sign of improvement. He had to wonder if he'd been charitable to make himself feel better, or because he truly thought it would help.

It wasn't long before the carriage rolled up before a massive building with shining marble columns and a bright awning over the noticeably better sidewalk. The horses halted and the carriage door opened. Dorian tried not to squint in the sudden bright sunlight as he climbed out and officially set foot in Minrathous. He thought he was prepared for this. But looking up at the marble buildings, feeling the magic flowing up through the very ground and through his boot soles and into him…

Dorian swallowed a lump in his throat and blinked back the moisture gathering in his eyes: they were tears of joy, yes, but tears no less, and he was determined not to show any perceptible weakness in his first moments back in the Imperium.

He smoothed his wrinkled travel clothes and ran a hand over his hair. He should have been nervous; whose brilliant idea had it been to make him an ambassador? But he felt in his element. This was where he belonged. He strolled into the lobby of the building, adjusting his Pavus family amulet. Down south he had privileges because of his association with the Inquisition, and his relationship with the Inquisitor himself; otherwise a Tevinter mage would never be so tolerated. He didn't kid himself. At least here his position as an Altus mage was truly advantageous.

"Dorian."

His heart skipped a beat at the sound of his name, stated so matter-of-factly in that cultured, almost weary voice that he knew so well, and could make his blood turn cold. His eyes adjusted to the darker interior and he focused on Halward Pavus. "Father," he replied, out of habit, and instantly felt angry with himself. _Halward_ would have been a better greeting, or even _Magister Pavus._

"Thank you for coming, Dorian," Halward said. He still hadn't come any closer or made any move, for which Dorian was glad. He was still processing the fact that he was back home; being greeted by Halward himself hadn't ever figured into any of his equations. "I've had rooms prepared for you."

"Here?" Dorian asked, because he didn't know what else to say. His father nodded once, slowly, as if afraid Dorian would lash out. But the way Halward spoke, it sounded as if he had been the one to procure Dorian's new appointment. "Very well then," he said breezily, even though he felt like he was walking into a trap. How far had word of his marriage spread? Would Halward try once again to use blood magic to control his son, or had he learned better?

"Servants will bring your things to your quarters. You must be tired and hungry after your long journey," Halward observed. He started toward Dorian, who reflexively called up his mana, and then he stopped. He stood in a beam of sunlight slicing through the shadows from a high window. The lines of his face were more deeply etched, especially around his eyes and on his forehead, like all he did was worry these days. "Dorian, you will never trust me as a father ever again. I understand that. But as a political ally, I'd like to extend my greetings to Minrathous and ask that you accompany me to dinner."

It was a rehearsed speech, one given begrudgingly as if Halward hadn't wanted it to come to this, but Dorian didn't know how, after all these years, his father could still hope for a relationship. "Thank you Magister. That would be lovely," he said instead and stepped aside to let his father lead the way.

He knew the streets of Minrathous with his eyes closed. He'd grown up in Qarinus, across the sea, and had shuffled between various Circles as a child, and had finally started to feel settled in Minrathous before Alexius had tried to entice him to join the Venatori. For months after finally leaving Tevinter, Dorian had dreamed of Minrathous. Sometimes, the Fade took on the appearance of the capital city. Indeed, he almost had to pinch himself to be certain that he truly was back.

They ended up at a small cafe off the main plaza, and were seated at a secluded table toward the back. "Ashamed to be seen with me?" Dorian asked, looking at the menu rather than at his father.

Halward sighed. "You've made your feelings abundantly clear on many occasions, Dorian," he said. "The last time we spoke, I thought I'd made mine clear as well. While I know you'll never forgive me-"

"I'm glad we're both in agreement on that," Dorian interrupted.

"I thought I might propose a diplomatic partnership between the Magisterium and the Inquisition." Halward held up his wine glass and a servant hurried over with a carafe of red wine. He filled Halward's glass and then Dorian's before stepping back, eyes on the tiled floor. "I only intend to oversee the inception of this. After you are instated you may never need to see me again."

His tone was measured and calm, and this time he did meet Dorian's gaze. There was no challenge there, and if anything, only a touch of regret. "There are things happening in the Magisterium that would be of interest to your Inquisition," Halward said after a moment of silence. "And I'm sure the Inquisition interests the Archon himself."

"I can't see how it wouldn't," Dorian admitted. He sipped at his wine. He took a deep breath. "I would be happy to speak with you and your contacts to find out how the Imperium might be interested in the Inquisition, and then bring my findings back to the Inquisitor and his advisors."

A small smile tugged at the corner of Halward's lips. "Are you not privy to your _Amatus's_ concerns, my son?"

_Fucking Halward Pavus._ Dorian's cheeks grew warm but he kept himself as relaxed as possible. "Theodane Trevelyan is my _Amatus_ , Magister. _Inquisitor_ Trevelyan is, as his title suggests, my Inquisitor."

"And you've convinced yourself that there is a difference."

"I believe, Magister Pavus," Dorian said, forcing himself to smile pleasantly, "that such information has little bearing on my position as an ambassador of the Inquisition. I've come in good faith to extend the Inquisition's hand to the Imperium, as requested." He took a bite of the delicate salad that had been placed before him.

After that talk drifted to home; Aquinea Thalrassian, Dorian's mother, remained overseeing the manor in Qarinus, while Halward stayed in his Minrathous apartments, and according to Halward, the arrangement suited them well. Dorian didn't doubt it; he'd never seen two people detest each other more than Aquinea and Halward. The Magisterium had a full senate session coming up toward the end of the month, and until then it was a flurry of committee meetings to prepare. "You wouldn't be required to sit in on any of them," Halward said, which Dorian surmised meant that he wouldn't be gaining access to the Magisterium's chambers.

It was just as well. The politics of the Imperium only interested Dorian in so much as he saw the apathy and corruption for what they were. Tevinter could be great, truly great once more: a jewel of Thedas, rather than masquerading as a cheap Orlesian knockoff, but only if it could recall the vibrant days of the past before it started making excuses for itself. Tevinter was the one place in Thedas where magic truly ruled and was not feared. If it collapsed, magic as they knew it could die out.

Dorian wasn't sure which was more unsettling to him: the idea of Tevinter collapsing upon itself at long last, or having no safe haven for magic left in this world.


	9. Ambassador Pavus

Dorian stared at his surroundings for a moment, trying to place where he was and what he was doing here. The bed was large and soft and he was alone. The silk sheets felt strange and the sunlight streaming through the window was bright and direct-not reflected off of snowy mountain peaks. He rolled over, looking for an indentation or feeling for warmth that wasn't there. Yes, he was really awake, and yes, he was really alone in Tevinter with Theo hundreds of miles away.

He slid out of bed and padded across the marble tiled floor, feeling with his mana as he went. His layers of magical blocks and traps had held through the night, which either meant his Inquisition contingent was as excellent as Cullen and Leliana had promised, or that his father had kept his word. He would put all of the Inquisition's funds on the former.

He kept the magical blocks intact as he headed to the bathing chamber. The sun slanted through the high windows and a light breeze blew in the sheers. It was much later in the morning than Dorian would have liked, and he realized the large bed, and this even larger marble tub were wasted without Theo there to share them with. He sighed and slid into the warm water. Perfumed soap, fluffy, finely woven towels… Not that Skyhold didn't have these amenities. But there was something about the feeling and the warmth in the air that made him feel wistful.

By the time Dorian had dressed he was certain it was nearly noon, and the rumbling in his stomach confirmed it. He stood in the center of his spacious chambers a moment. Part of him wanted to just stay here, where he knew he could be relatively safe and alone. But then he remembered his father's smug grins and long-suffering sighs… and the way it felt to walk the streets of Minrathous once more, and he knew that staying in and pouting would do no good for himself, let alone his new position as an ambassador.

What did ambassadors do? He wondered this as he grabbed his staff and exited his rooms. He felt eyes on him: eyes watching from the Fade, eyes watching his back. No doubt Leliana's people, many of whom were capable of hiding in plain sight. He probably should have asked Josephine about it; but her daily routine of burying herself under stacks of paperwork and soothing disgruntled diplomats didn't seem to match what he was expected to do here.

Watch. Listen. Report. That was all he really needed to do.

His aimless wandering brought him to the cafe he'd had dinner at, so he decided to just have lunch there and plan his next steps.

He'd barely settled at an outdoor table and begun looking at the menu when someone called his name. "Dorian, darling!" He looked up, startled. Maevaris Tilani strode across the plaza, her heels clacking on the flagstones. She embraced Dorian and then held him at arm's length to inspect him. "Well. It appears the South hasn't disagreed with you too badly," she told him with a smile.

"No. In fact it has rather agreed with me in some senses," he told her with a smile, even as a pang jabbed in his heart when he thought of Theo. "Join me?"

She took the seat across from him. "You know the best places to eat, even after being away for so long."

"Halward and I dined here last night," Dorian explained.

"So you're an ambassador now," Maevaris said, rather than mince any more words on small talk. She'd always been able to cut to the chase whenever she took the Senate floor, and in such a pleasant and quick way that most of her opponents had to scramble to keep up with her. "How long will that last?"

Dorian shrugged. Maevaris was one of the few Magisters he trusted; well, as far as any of them could be trusted. "As long as it needs to. Ideally, not very long. I have business in the south I'd like to return to."

"I wonder how Trevelyan would feel being referred to as 'business'," she teased. She fixed her knowing blue eyes on Dorian, who merely smiled back at her.

"Rather than compromise my integrity as an ambassador by pointing out my obvious conflicts of interest, why don't you instead let me know what matters of interest have been going on in the Magisterium?" he asked her instead.

It made for a lovely afternoon, basking in the warm sun and nibbling on the delicacies the cafe served. Skyhold had never lacked for good cuisine, but Tevinter food eaten in Tevinter just tasted better: finer, more delicate and authentic. Maevaris regaled him with the latest gossip as well as news of the Senate floor. "Old Arborus died last year, too," she told him. "Not unexpected, but still a surprise. A pleasant one, it turns out."

Arborus had been a traditionalist. Much as his name suggested, he stood as still and firmly rooted as an old tree. But he hadn't been a terrible Magister, and while he seemed aware of the corruption that ran through the Magisterium, he didn't seem to have had a role in any of it. "He didn't have a successor, did he."

"That's where things get a little tricky, and where money can be used for good," Mae said, tearing off a strip of thin bread and dipping it into herbed oil. "You know as well as anyone that the Magisterium is rotting from the inside out. Better than most of us, really."

"I do, yes. What do you propose to do about it?"

"Some of us are forming our own sect to start dealing with it, one legislation at a time if that's what it takes." Maevaris leaned forward, elbows on the table and eyes sparkling and intense.

Dorian shook his head and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. "I agreed to be an ambassador, and that's what I intend to do." She blinked and her eyes narrowed. "I love the Imperium. Desperately. But…"

Maevaris sat back. "You love him, too."

"Yes." Dorian rubbed his thumb against the underside of his wedding band. It was smooth and warm, and there was the subtlest buzz of magic woven into the metal. He sighed. "I'm no politician, Maevaris. I never wanted to be. I'm still as perplexed about this role as anybody else." He recalled what Theo had told him. "There's to be a council held in Orlais. And I intend to go, to report back as an ambassador, and to get back to the man I love."

"I'm not a stranger to love, darling," she told him, twisting the silverite and sapphire ring she wore on her left hand. "Nor of the pain that comes from loving the wrong man."

Dorian knew she meant 'wrong' as in, by Tevinter social standards. Her late husband, Thorold Tethras, had been a dwarf. And while he had been exceedingly wealthy, the union was still not what Tevinter high society considered proper. But still, the implication that Theo was wrong for him caused his mana to spike, and it was all he could do to keep himself from lashing out emotionally. "Thank you, Mae," he said, pasting a smile on his face. "I will keep that in mind."

Not like he had the choice not to.

Dorian and Maevaris parted ways; she had a meeting to attend, leaving him to wander Minrathous. He tried to think about the things Josephine did on a daily basis as the Inquisition's ambassador, but he had no piles of paperwork to sort through and worse: no Theo Trevelyan at whom to be annoyed.

The high market of Minrathous was relatively empty at this time of day, when the sun was highest and most respectable citizens were indoors either enjoying an afternoon nap or in a meeting of some sort. Dorian basked in the warm sun; it was different from the blistering heat of the Western Approach, which had been the warmest place (perhaps the only warm place) he'd traveled with the Inquisition.

He paused at a jeweler's stall. "Magister. You honor me," the man said with a bow, barely looking at Dorian.

Soporati then. Well to do, but not quite well enough to afford the exorbitant rent of an actual shop off the plaza. "I'm no Magister," he told the man with a smile. He looked over the man's wares. "You craft these yourself?" he asked, and the man nodded, still having trouble looking at him. Dorian suppressed a sigh. Yes, there was a time in his past when he wouldn't have noticed this behavior; it was just how things were in Minrathous. "You do lovely work," he said. He picked up a silver and peridot cloak brooch. The fine silver filigree wound around the impressively sized and nicely cut gem. "I'd like this," he said.

The jeweler took the brooch from Dorian and dug around for a velvet pouch. "You have fine taste, my lord," he said. "Your lady will be pleased."

Dorian grinned. "Not quite my lady. But I'm sure he will love it all the same. It's nearly the same color as his eyes."

The merchant blushed as he rattled off the total. Now he really had trouble looking at Dorian, who paid the cost without question and took the velvet parcel. He pocketed it and continued through the market until the stalls thinned out and the walkways converged onto a stone pavilion with a fountain in the center. Magic flowed through the stones and the fountain, a work of ancient dwarven engineering, bubbled high into the air.

He'd reached the Magisterium.

It was a sprawling building that rose up over just about every other building in Minrathous. Only the Chantry was higher, and even then not by much. The Chantry ruled in the south, but not the same here. Magic ruled in Tevinter, and even the architecture made that point. He entered the cooler vestibule and gave his eyes a moment to adjust.

Nothing had changed. The inlaid marble floors were still gleaming. The air still smelled of incense and dusty parchment, burnt candles and sweet sealing wax. The corridors stretched on either side of the huge double doors that led into the massive senate chamber. Two masked guards stood at attention: soporati templars from the feel of it, Dorian surmised. Guarding the senate chambers were really the only actual positions of power Tevinter templars held, and even then it was more for show. Nearly everything in Minrathous was for show these days. Dorian sighed and headed back to his apartment.

That night he tossed in the spacious bed, trying to find rest that wouldn't come. It was a warm night, as most in Minrathous were, and even though the bed had only silken sheets and a lightly woven blanket, it was too much. He was getting too soft, too southern, he thought as he kicked off the blankets. Back home… what _was_ home anymore? Back in Skyhold, he often fought Theo for more of the blankets piled on their bed.

He climbed out of bed and padded, completely nude, across the marble floor and bend over the small polished writing desk.

 _Been here two days. Best thing about Tevinter: you're not here to steal the blankets,_ he wrote. He tapped the end of the quill against his lips before adding, _worst thing about Tevinter: you're not here to steal the blankets_. He folded it up and wrapped himself in a silk robe before making his way to the door and peeking out.

"Need assistance, Ambassador Pavus?" an Inquisition guard asked.

"Correspondence for the Inquisitor," Dorian told him. "Of utmost urgency," he added, suppressing a grin as he headed back to bed and attempted to sleep.

* * *

Maevaris was a consummate hostess, and her parties were usually the talk of Tevinter. Or, they were now, a few years after she'd notoriously helped Varric, King Alistair of Ferelden, and some pirate apprehend Aurelian Titus. Dorian had never known Titus, other than what his father had to say, and none of it was favorable. When Titus never returned from his Seheron excursion that year, it was one of the few times Halward seemed favorably disposed toward Maevaris.

Ever since, her parties were met with wariness and excitement.

Dorian didn't expect to have to fight off a dragon cult, and the Venatori had waned considerably since Corypheus's defeat. Pockets of the sect still held out in the Dales, Hissing Wastes, and probably remote corners of the Imperium, but it seemed that tonight would be relatively relaxed. Still, it didn't hurt to be prepared. He tucked a couple vials of lyrium into his belt pockets and waved his hand before his face. Reality disappeared as if it were a curtain being lifted, giving him a glimpse into the Fade,

They didn't show themselves at first, but Dorian sent out a gentle pulse of mana. _I am here. Will you attend me?_ He asked. And then he caught faint shadows at the edges of his peripheral vision. He'd communed with spirits of death and darkness for more than half his life now and had come to rely on their subtle presences when he went into the most dangerous of situations. It was they who had reached out to spirits of healing to preserve his life in the fight against Corypheus. It was a relationship not many mages (especially those in the south) would understand, but one that was just part of who he was as a Necromancer mage.

The last time he'd been nervous before a party of any sort, not including his own wedding, had been the ball at Halamshiral. Enemies lurked in every corner, watching from the shadows. While he doubted Mae harbored any ill intent, there was no saying what her guests' feelings toward him and the Inquisition were.

This was his first official foray as an ambassador. The last several days had been little more than wandering around Minrathous, overhearing conversations and smiling at those who whispered when he passed. There had been no meetings and he'd not even seen or heard from his father at all-which was strange, since it was his father who had set this up. He wondered if he'd see Halward at Mae's this evening.

"Dorian, darling!" Mae exclaimed when he entered, before her staff could even announce his arrival. She was dressed in her signature sapphire blue. A high slit ran up the skirt to well above her knee. Her delicate silver-colored heels clacked on her marble floors. "I'm so glad you made it. I have some people I'd like you to meet."

Dorian followed her into the main room. Soft music wafted from a corner and the smell of food was in the air. Dorian, who was starving, grabbed a small piece of tapenade-topped toast from a passing server, and a glass of wine from another as he followed Maevaris. She nodded her greetings to her other guests, but did not pause to introduce Dorian until she'd reached the conservatory at the back of her residence. Here the sound of the music was faint and a table of hors d'oeuvres had been set up. Two servants stood behind a marble counter situated before a modest wine rack, and a group of a half dozen other people sat, talking, around a glass topped table.

"I take it this is the real party," Dorian said, glancing between his toast and his wine. "You should have told me so I wouldn't end up looking like a fool," he added pointedly.

"I didn't know how else to get you here and make this happen," Mae confessed. "Your father was able to have you named Tevinter's Ambassador to the Inquisition-"

"Funny. I thought I was the Inquisition's Ambassador to Tevinter."

She sighed. "Either way, you have no official duties, as you've probably seen. I know how you feel about the Imperium, Dorian. Moreover, you're not alone." She steered him toward the table, where the other people were casting furtive glances at him. "This is the start of the Lucerni Party," she announced.

Lucerni: light. It wasn't only cults of purists and eccentrics that threatened the Imperium, but the darkness of corruption. These six-seven, counting Mae-intended to stand up to the corruption and end it, one vote at a time? Dorian sighed and drained his wine glass. "Well then. I am Dorian Pavus, but you already knew that," he announced with a slight bow before taking a seat.

In addition to Maevaris, there was Marcus Philius; Samus Aventus; Petra Solanus; Maximus Decimus; and Lucrezia Aureos. "Pavus. You fought the Venatori close up," Philius began with an approving nod. "Word is you turned on Alexius himself."

"Is that the word," Dorian answered warily, holding up his glass for another serving of wine.

"We were there, almost all of us, when Felix gave his speech," Aventus said. "Lucrezia, she was sworn in only about a year ago."

Aureos. It wasn't a familiar name to Dorian. "Arborus's successor," he guessed, and Lucrezia nodded. She was quite young, with glossy, short dark hair and sharp golden brown eyes. He could see how she'd be drawn to Mae's cause. The others in the group he recognized, if only by name. None were of the Altus class, and all would have something to gain if their cause took off.

He filled a small plate with snacks and took a sip of wine. He had a feeling it would be a long evening. "So. What is a prodigal Altus son, barely tolerated by his own father, expected to do?"

"You have connections." Lucrezia tapped her fingers on the glass tabletop. "Connections none of us have. As an Altus, and as a member of the Inquisition."

"I hardly think the Magisterium approves of the Inquisition," Dorian said.

Lucrezia and the others nodded in agreement. "Some see it as a threat," Aventus said. He wiped his fingers on a silk napkin. "Most are faintly interested, but find other matters far more pressing. Like the Qunari. Seheron grows restless yet again." He took a sip of wine. "One of your companions is Qunari, yes?"

"The Iron Bull is hardly a typical Qunari, and he chose the path of the Tal-Vashoth," Dorian said. "And his loyalties lie with the Inquisition and whatever they're paying him. I may be an ambassador on their behalf, but I haven't come prepared to discuss what it would cost for you to hire the Chargers company," he told them. "Unless… are you trying to have me broker an alliance between the Lucerni and the Inquisition?"

Mae shook her head. "No. I know you're not in a position to do that. Lady Montilyet has been more than accommodating when she can be, and we agree it's not a prudent move for the Inquisition at this time."

Of course they were all in on this. Dorian hated missing variables in equations, and hated being used as a pawn even more. "What do you want of me, then?" he asked.

"Stay in Tevinter." Maevaris watched him with her deep blue eyes, taking in everything about him as he tried to find some sort of response.

"You were with the Inquisition. You fought Venatori and you helped defeat Corypheus," Lucrezia said, her eyes sparkling. "You may not be able to take your seat in the Magisterium as of yet, but if you start working with us, if you can be a voice of reason from someone who's been there…"

Dorian remembered the days when he'd had such passion. When he and Felix had stayed up late, excitedly planning all they could do if they were able to take seats in the Magisterium. Then the Venatori happened. Then Alexius joined them, and tried to entice Dorian to join as well. "Returning to the Imperium long-term was not in my immediate plans," he said at last. "And I have commitments," he added. "Besides, my potential to take over for my father is uncertain. Halward and I have never seen eye to eye and I'm sure he's not keen on his more liberal son sullying his mediocre legacy."

"You're not disinherited yet," Philius pointed out. "That you know of, at least."

That did bring a smile to Dorian's lips. "I'm sure he would tell me, that's true. Halward Pavus doesn't mince words." He sat back in his chair. "If you care to tell me your aims and means of accomplishing them, I can bring the news back to the Inquisition when I return."

When he returned. Not if. When.


	10. All That Glitters

One lesson Theo had had to learn was how to carry himself as if he had a purpose. Walking confidently tended to result in less questions, which in turn allowed someone to access people and places he might not normally be able to. Dorian remembered sunny mornings in the gardens playing chess with Cullen, while watching Josephine and Leliana, and sometimes even the Iron Bull, coach Theo on how to stand, how to walk, even how to hold his head in order to keep people from questioning him. It wasn't merely enough to be the Inquisitor in name, or to hold out his marked hand: he had to hold himself in a way that commanded attention and respect.

It was a lesson Dorian had learned as a child, and something he never really gave much thought to. Though now, as he entered the Magisterium and climbed the stairs toward the galleries, he figured he hadn't lost his touch, as no one stopped him. He'd spent many senate sessions up here, watching his father or Alexius debate before the gathering. Maevaris's request the other night, that he remain in Tevinter in spite of his dedication to the Inquisition, weighed heavily on him.

The Senate was not in session, and the huge amphitheater was empty. Dorian settled in a seat overlooking the floor. Here, he and Felix had placed wagers on which Magisters would win, or would back down in a debate. Here they'd leaned against the railing, listening raptly as their fathers argued the future of Tevinter. Here, Dorian had thought he could maybe be the one to make the Imperium a better place. Then the Venatori happened; then Halward turned to blood magic.

He still dreamed of a better Tevinter. But he was no politician, and knew that his time away from the Imperium had changed him. He'd grown. He'd seen more of the world than the Imperium's narrow view had provided. He'd thought he couldn't stay away forever, but the moment Maevaris asked him to come back… he couldn't commit.

Not for the first time did he wish he had Theo here with him, sitting next to him, letting him ramble about his memories; attending soirees with him, listening to him bear his uncertainties in the darkness after a long day. All the things he'd done for Theo. He could come back to Tevinter and do what Maevaris asked-if he could have Theo at his side, encouraging him, loving him, being strong for him. And having Theo in Tevinter, openly by his side, was about as practical and realistic as peace on Seheron in his lifetime.

The door creaked behind him and he turned, ready to fire off a quip at whichever guard was going to tell him to leave. But instead it was Lucrezia Aureos. "Magister," he said, rising and bowing slightly.

"Ambassador," she said, returning the gesture. But she was smiling, and her eyes were bright and alert. "May I join you?"

Dorian nodded, and Lucrezia took a seat next to him. "I used to come up here when I was younger," he explained. "Watch the debates, consider my own views on policy. They've changed quite a bit in the time I've been away."

"I wasn't allowed through these doors until a few years ago," Lucrezia told him. She stared down over the rows of seats, to the podium in the center. "What's it like, Dorian?" she asked, and he quirked an eyebrow at her curiously. "You're an Altus. You're descended from one of the oldest bloodlines in the Imperium. You're guaranteed a seat in the Magisterium, and your voice will be heard, because of your blood and coin. And yet you don't want it." She turned her gaze on him. "What's it like, to have everything given to you, and turn your nose up at it?"

"Is that what you think I'm doing?" Dorian asked her, incredulous.

"Is that what _you_ think you're doing?" Lucrezia asked him. She didn't look away, her gaze steady, almost challenging him. She had no fear. "You've been in the metaphorical trenches, Pavus. You've gotten things done. You know how much more you could do?" She stood suddenly. "Come with me."

Dorian rose, but warily. "You do realize I trust you as far as I can throw you." Lucrezia grinned, which did little for his confidence, but he followed her down the stairs anyway. It was more interesting than moping and lamenting and feeling out of place, which was how he'd been spending most of his days.

Lucrezia led him down winding staircases and into the cool darkness beneath the Magisterium. Dorian had heard rumors that there was a Deep Roads entrance down here, and if not that, at the very least entries into the vast catacombs that ran underneath Minrathous. She paused before a set of heavy, dark doors and pushed them open.

Veilfire torches lit a modest-sized arena with blue-green light. A few obsidian benches surrounded a sand pit. Lucrezia shrugged out of her over cloak and laid it on a bench. She hefted her staff in her hand. The crystal at the top pulsed with pale light and Dorian felt a noticeable chill. She stepped into the arena. "When was the last time you properly dueled, Ambassador?" she asked.

Dorian couldn't help but grin. "I've been on the battlefield more in the last two years than most Magisters will in their entire lives." He held up his hand and a ball of lightning coalesced at his fingertips.

"Is that your way of declining a challenge?" she asked, still smiling.

"You ask a lot of questions." Dorian released the lightning spell into the room. Lucrezia barely blinked as she threw up a shield to protect herself. "Circle trained?" he asked, stepping into the sand. It was soft beneath his boots, and magic seemed to flow up through his feet. Sanctioned dueling arenas such as this one often had lyrium ground up into the sand itself. She shook her head. "Privately tutored then. I never had much reason to converse with old Arborus."

"He was a decent fellow," Lucrezia said. She planted her staff in the sand and bowed. "And a good teacher."

Dorian followed suit. "I do hope so."

No sooner had he straightened his spine than Lucrezia had fired off a small cyclone of ice and snow at him. He reacted instantly, sending up both a shield of protection and a fireball from the end of his staff. The flames slammed into a wall of ice that sprang from the earth when Lucrezia swept the head of her staff across the sand.

Dorian took aim above her head, behind her ice wall, and cast a static cage. The electricity buzzed in the air and bright, white-violet light lit up the room like an unnatural storm. Dorian relied on his magic every day, and rarely thought about it when calling upon his mana; but the last time he'd truly stretched his abilities had been the Frostback excursion. As he and Lucrezia circled one another, firing off spell after spell, dodging small blizzards and gouts of flame, he realized just how good it felt to be casting like this again.

He dodged as she sent a fist-shaped boulder of rock in his direction, rolling in the sand and coming up to his feet in just enough time to shield himself from a mind blast. He held the barrier with his left hand. He held his staff in his right hand and slammed the butt of it into the sand, sending out a shockwave of electricity. Lucrezia nimbly spun out of the way. Doubtless she'd learned Orlesian and Tevinter ballroom dancing in addition to her spell training. Dorian approved. The Venatori mages had a similar finesse, being Tevinter and all; but the rebel mages of the south had been clunky and a bit unwieldy in their battle casting.

Lucrezia waved her staff and a ball of snow came flying at Dorian's head. He blocked it, but taking his eyes off of her for that one moment caused him to miss the way she traced a glyph in the air with her right hand. No sooner had he made the snow dissipate than she'd trapped him with a paralysis glyph.

He stood, rooted to the ground, unable to move or speak. Even breathing was difficult. Her glyph was quite good. He hadn't realized Arborus was such a glyph master.

She managed to keep her breathing even, though it was evident to them both that, had she not cast the paralysis glyph, he was the stronger mage. "You can't tell me you're happy down south, playing with mages who aren't allowed to even enjoy their talent," she said. "Or that you don't look over your shoulder for their templars when you're not with your beloved Inquisitor."

Dorian knew he was an anomaly down south, and his presence had been tolerated because of his proximity to Theo Trevelyan. That given their way, most templars would see him made Tranquil, or at least shipped back to Tevinter. At least at the beginning. Since Cassandra had taken over as Divine her new reforms for the Circle and its templars had been kinder-to both parties. But magic still made the average person uncomfortable. Dorian was secure enough in his abilities that he wouldn't live in fear.

He had a unique relationship with fear. One very few people knew about or could understand.

Lucrezia was watching him, waiting for an answer. She'd loosened the grip of the spell enough that he could speak. Rather than reply, he blinked into the Fade, where the spirits waited for him. _It is but a duel between peers,_ he thought, and could feel the tension abate slightly. _Though if you were so inclined to assist, I'd be grateful,_ he added. "Looking over my shoulder has never gotten me anywhere," he told her. He stared at one of the pillars behind her, as if to make a point.

She was a quick study, but she was young and passionate, and she met his challenge. She looked behind her, where misty dark violet spirits hovered over the sand, exuding sadness and fear and pain. Her cheeks blanched. The spirits joined together, forming the shape of a large skull with a bottomless stare that bored into her. Fear rolled off of it in waves of darkness. Dorian watched the spirits calmly. Slowly the hold of the glyph loosened. He could have broken it, but he waited until Lucrezia's fear had destroyed her concentration. _Thank you; return,_ he thought, and the skull seemed to smile before fading into nothingness. Once more they were in the sandy arena, lit only by veilfire.

Dorian reached out a hand and Lucrezia had the grace to accept it. "I know what's over my shoulder, and I accept it and never wonder," he told her.

To his surprise she nodded and smiled. "I don't think I've ever seen magic like that."

"Necromancy. Very few people practice it. When I started in Vyrantium the only known Necromancer was well past seventy years of age, and viewed it as merely theoretical novelty rather than practical application." He paused to take a drink from the cool stone fountain near the exit of the arena. "May I inquire as to the purpose of this little duel?"

"I wanted to see how I match up against an Altus," she said with a shrug. He moved out of the way so she could drink as well. "Arborus was a good teacher, but again, more with the theory of things. He was a politician and a researcher first and foremost."

"Are you not also a politician?"

She grinned. "You do know why these duel rooms exist, right?" Dorian had to nod in concession. It didn't happen often, but arguments on the senate floor were known to end in challenges, with the losing party agreeing to change their vote. Lucrezia exited the arena. "You have to admit it probably felt good to be sparring again on your home territory."

Dorian very nearly launched into a lengthy diatribe of how magic use in Tevinter just felt better and more natural than anywhere else he'd ever been, and then he realized just how casual and un-timid Lucrezia was. "I was not expecting to duel," he answered instead. He didn't recall Arborus being quite that affable, that he could engage someone in casual conversation and discover weaknesses. He smiled. "Magister Aureos, I do appreciate you taking this time with me. But I really must inquire as to your motives. You no doubt are aware that, while you are a lovey woman, I prefer men, so that cannot be it."

Lucrezia nodded once. "You read people well, Ambassador. In truth, I thought it would be nice to give you something to do, since the Magisterium isn't in session, and you have yet to be summoned for any further meetings. And...I'd like to show you Minrathous, possibly as you've never seen it before."

Dorian had seen much of Minrathous; he'd lived here for several years, before leaving the Imperium. He knew its shops and markets and cafes, he knew the Chantry and the beggars and the quaint blocks of apartments where Magisters kept second homes while their families remained behind in whatever province they were from. He knew about the docks and dusty lower markets and cramped hovels, though he'd never had need to go there. He figured that was where Lucrezia was going to take him, and thanked the Maker for all the times he traversed Thedas in the mud with Theo.

They walked a few blocks away from the Magisterium, back through the markets and stalls and turned down a side street off the plaza where proper shops were set up. Lucrezia paused at a windowed shop with a sign that looked like a barrel hanging over the doorway. _AUREOS_ had been emblazoned on the barrel in gold leaf. "Tell me, Ambassador, do you have a taste for whiskey?" she asked.

"I tend to prefer wine, though my palate is tempered toward harder spirits, so long as they're well made," he said. He followed her in. Sunlight slanted through the front window onto the wooden floors. The shop was warm and slightly humid, and the pungent scent of old wood permeated the air.

"Lu?" someone asked. A handsome man, probably about Theo's age, had appeared from around one of the large casks. He smiled, his dark curls flopping on his forehead, and his golden brown eyes sparkling. "And you brought a guest. You must be Ambassador Pavus. Hector Aureos, m'lord," he said with a slight bow, eyes cast down to the floor.

"My older brother," Lucrezia explained. "And this is the Aureos Distillery. We've been in the fine whiskey business for generations."

"You're Laetan," Dorian said.

"Took quite a bit of coin, and no small amount of our best reserve to get old Arborus to take on Lu," Hector said, beaming with pride. "Absolutely worth it, we all agree. Oh!" He dashed back to the counter and rummaged about. He pulled out a deep green velvet bag with _Aureos Distillery_ embroidered on it and handed it to Dorian. "A bottle of our best, as a token of thanks to the Inquisition."

Dorian nodded his thanks as he took the bag. "This is the Minrathous you want me to see?" he asked Lucrezia. This was the upper market, and a purveyor of fine goods. When he thought about seeing how others lived, he remembered Halamshiral, and the refugees in the Hinterlands.

Lucrezia led him to a small table topped with hammered copper. The effect was rather artsy. Hector brought out two glasses and poured a small measure of whiskey from a decanter, then topped it with a bit of water from a copper pitcher. Lucrezia waved her hand over the tops of the glasses and chunks of ice appeared. "She's pretty handy to have around," Hector mentioned with a wink. "Her ice spells have given us a distinct advantage in the markets." He disappeared again around a barrel and out of sight.

"Minrathous is a big city," Lucrezia told him, taking a slow sip of her drink. Dorian followed suit. It was velvety smooth on his tongue and in spite of the ice, burned going down, but pleasantly so. He and Theo would definitely enjoy the bottle together. "There have always been the suffering poor. The beggar soporati. The struggling Laetans. Most end up as pages, if that. I was lucky I'm wealthy and my family could afford a sponsorship that would result in inheriting a seat." She swirled the glass around the tabletop. "Not all Laetan mages are so lucky. If the Tevinter Imperium is the land of magic, then all mages should have the opportunity to flourish."

Dorian sipped at his drink. He'd spent his youth in Tevinter taking magic for granted. He knew as an Altus, and a talented one at that, he was far more privileged than most, but hadn't thought much about it. He figured anyone who possessed magical skill would receive training. And yet Lucrezia's points did not surprise him. "It was my own youthful naivety that wanted to believe that magic truly ruled here," he said at last. He touched his glass with one finger and sent a tiny thread of cooling magic through it before taking another sip. "Perhaps we are not much better than our southern neighbors who also allow coin to rule over all."

Lucrezia smiled broadly, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "So you'll stay."

He shook his head. "I cannot make that promise right now, Magister," he told her. She was so young it was hard to remember that, politically, she ranked above him. "Though I will thank you for this drink, and for showing me that, for all Minrathous glitters, there's naught but dross below the surface."

Her smile faltered slightly and the light left her eyes. "Of course, Ambassador. I only ask that you consider our words and offers. The Lucerni party would do well to have you as an ally."

 _Definitely quite young,_ Dorian thought. She still had much to learn about schooling her emotions and expressions. While she'd been raised wealthy and had been afforded certain privileges, she'd not learned to play the political games the same way. Though perhaps that could be to her advantage. The Magisterium had done things the same way for so long. The world was changing, though. Perhaps the Magisterium needed to change with it.

"I will consider your offer," he told her at last. "I make no promises other than that."

Lucrezia relaxed ever so slightly and her lips quirked up in a slight smile. "That's a good start. I'll take it."


	11. Open Communication

Halward invited him out for dinner.

Dorian declined.

He had no real plans, but he made an excuse anyway. He assumed Halward had gotten wind of Maevaris and Lucrezia's involvement with him, and felt the need to attempt to exert his influence. As if Dorian cared what his father thought.

Now what Maevaris thought, on the other hand…

He took a quick dinner in his chambers and then headed out to the Archives. While he knew that even the records of the Magisterium would likely be biased, at least they'd give him some more insight into what the Lucerni were trying to accomplish. He still had to figure out a way to balance his world. If the Lucerni had the end goal of undermining the status quo, and he joined with them, there was no way Theo could be in Tevinter with him. But if he wanted to have Theo in Tevinter with him, it would have to be somewhere quiet and remote, perhaps outside of Qarinus-maybe even the Pavus estate, if he could convince his mother to move to Minrathous… but it would mean he couldn't be in Minrathous helping the Lucerni the way he would need to.

Dorian sighed as he slipped into the archive chambers. What was that the Orlesians said about having cake, and eating it too?

Most Magisters were out for dinner, leaving only scribes and pages down here. The scribes were tasked with making extra copies of the transcripts of hearings and proceedings, some of which would stay in Minrathous; others would be sent to other Circles for safekeeping. Dorian didn't doubt that there was some secret record repository somewhere in the south. The Imperium didn't like the idea of fading into obscurity.

He'd been in the archives a few times as Alexius's student, digging up transcripts and case studies to assist his mentor when an important vote was upcoming. The smell of old paper and dust was pleasant to him. When he'd first come to Skyhold he'd spent much time in the library, remembering the smell of old books and dust and papers from his time in the Circles of Tevinter; now he closed his eyes and allowed himself one moment to picture Skyhold's library before heading to the area where the more recent documents were stored.

Dorian didn't quite know what he was looking for, so he just pulled a transcript from the last time the full senate met and started skimming. The entire document was written in Tevene; if anyone from the south, not versed in the language, got ahold of these, they'd mean nothing. Clever.

It was the same boring tripe as always, though he did catch a gem at the end: a proposal to give Laetan mages, especially first generation ones, more opportunity. _If the Tevinter Imperium is to be the land of magic, in opposition to the Southern Lands and their backward ways, it is proposed that any Laetan mage be admitted for study to an Imperial Circle._ It was co-signed by Maevaris and Lucrezia.

Theoretically Laetan mages were not barred entry to the Circles. But education was costly, and few soporati families had the means to support a Circle education for very long, not unless the student could prove him or herself and gain a sponsorship to subsidize the costs. What Mae and Lucrezia were suggesting was going to cost money. If there was one thing Tevinter's elite hated more than anything, it was knowing that their money wasn't going to be making them richer.

Still, it was a worthy goal and quite spirited, and while it hadn't made the vote that day, it was possible that it could come up at the next Senate session. Halward had told him it wouldn't be until the end of the month. Dorian could possibly still be here. It would be interesting to see how it went down. He had once declared he wanted to make Tevinter a better place: scour the corruption from the Magisterium, turn focus away from the distraction that was Seheron…

Dorian replaced the documents and headed back out into the warm evening. The salty breeze off the Nocen Sea was tangy and a bit sweet. The dinner rush at the cafes was long past, and only a few patrons here and there sipped wine and nibbled at tapas while they spoke to one another in low voices.

A Minrathous relatively free from corruption. What would that be like? Mages filling the halls of the Imperial Circles, learning and becoming more powerful and eventually helping to rebuild Tevinter as a major power player. Changing the world for the better.

He'd often teased Theo for being too sentimental whenever he got that way, but maybe the Inquisitor had been onto something.

Dorian turned down an alley he knew would lead him back to his apartments, but stopped when he heard footsteps behind him. He smiled and felt his mana flare. "Whomever you are, if you'd like to have a conversation, you need only ask." He turned to face a larger man, rather beefy for a mage. His back was to the lights, so his face was shrouded in shadow. Dorian felt the waves of mana rolling off of him, but was not intimidated. It was clearly for show. Fortunately Dorian had both showmanship and skill on his side, and he had fought far worse.

"Titus Magnus," the man said. He leaned a shoulder against the wall. "And I know who you are," he said before Dorian could give his customary, flourishing introduction. "You're Inquisition." The tip of his staff lit up bright lyrium-blue.

"And an Altus, born and bred," Dorian added, annoyed. "If you have issues with the Inquisition I'm afraid there's a bit of a queue. It may be a wait."

Magnus stepped forward, his staff still glowing. Dorian adjusted his grip on his own staff. "The Archives are of no matter to the Inquisition."

"I'm no Magister," Dorian said, adding thank the Maker silently. "But the Archives are public." Of course, most of the public was illiterate, meaning that mostly Magisters, Altuses, Laetans, and wealthy, educated soporati would find any use for the Archives. His own staff glowed deep purple. "If you mean to duel me over what is my right as both an Altus and a diplomatic envoy, perhaps we should take it to an arena?"

Magnus swept his staff in an arc before him and a wall of ice sprang from the ground. Dorian held up his hand and a jet of flame shot out and hit the wall full force, melting a large chunk of the center. "I find it easier to converse without visible barriers between us, if it's all the same to you," he said, growing irritated. "Or did you not learn that etiquette in your Circle?"

"You were kicked out of nearly every Circle you attended, so I'm not sure what you learned," Magnus said. His staff flared and he pulled back his hand, then punched the air before him. Dorian barely got a barrier up before the stone fist spell slammed into him. His shield wavered but held. "You have no business here, Pavus," Magnus told him. "Your movement about the city has not gone unnoticed, and you'd do well to either keep different company, or to run south to mingle with the fops and dog lords again."

Now Dorian wanted to know more than ever just what Maevaris and Lucrezia were up to, if his investigations, even shallow as they were, ended up with people like Titus Magnus threatening him. Dorian had spent so much of his youth sneaking around, hiding his true self; he hadn't come home after all he'd experienced just to crawl back into that shell again. He planted his staff and a ball of electricity glowed overhead. Magnus focused his dispel charm on that while Dorian called forth the Fade spirits of death, invoking sadness and fear and terror.

The violently violet shades fanned out around him and advanced upon Titus Magnus. They converged on him just as he dispelled the ball of lightning. Dorian held out his hand and they paused, looking back at him for direction. Magnus's face was pale in the blue and purple lights of their staves. "Stand down, Magnus," he said.

Magnus was shaking, visibly terrified as the aura of fear rolled out and around him. "You… You don't have any authority."

"I do. Stand down."

Dorian longed to spin around in indignation, but forced himself to continue staring down Magnus. "Magister Pavus," he said without looking.

"Ambassador Pavus," Halward said in greeting, standing at Dorian's side. "Titus Magnus, you will stand down now, and you will not threaten Tevinter's political guests in an unsanctioned, and frankly tasteless back alley duel."

Dorian subtly called the spirits back to him and let them dissipate into the Fade. Magnus seemed to relax, but still looked pale and shaken. "Catullus will hear of this," he said, straightening up and smoothing his robes before spinning on his heel and stalking off.

Dorian sighed. "I suppose I'm obligated to thank you, though I could have easily bested him."

Halward turned and gestured for Dorian to follow him. "I've no doubt, Dorian. No one doubts your abilities. Titus Magnus is little more than muscle and lacks finesse. But the fact that he sees fit to try to engage you in this manner is worrisome."

"Over visiting the Archives? Can he even read?"

Halward sighed. "I know you enjoy the company of Magister Tilani, and it's no secret she's been in contact with the Inquisition. Maevaris and her group are somewhat of an outlier in the Magisterium. Perhaps it would be best that you not associate with them, at least so openly, for the rest of your time here."

They were back at Dorian's apartments. Dorian laughed. "You realize that cautioning me against that makes me all the more eager to spend time with Magister Tilani."

"I do. But as your father I cannot help but still feel some need to counsel you." His dark eyes searched Dorian, hoping for a reaction, but Dorian had taught himself long ago to show nothing.

"Thank you for your assistance and your counsel, Magister Pavus," Dorian told him, bowing slightly. "Good night." He left his father standing on the sidewalk in the warm, dark night.

* * *

Whatever Maevaris and her friends were up to, it was enough to worry people. If Titus Magnus was willing to risk breaching etiquette over Dorian scouring the Archives, it was worth looking into. If his father was counseling him against working with Mae, even knowing that such a course would only encourage Dorian more, something was up. The things that Lucrezia and Maevaris and the other Lucerni were actively and vocally pursuing had stirred a sleeping dragon.

Dorian knew, after what he'd seen with the Venatori, and now with the Lucerni, that Tevinter truly was approaching a precipice of change. It was at once exciting and terrifying, and after last night he knew he needed to be part of this. Still, balancing things with Theo and with Tevinter weighed heavily on his heart.

Against his father's counsel he headed over to Maevaris's Minrathous home. Let them all see him out in the open, doing as he pleased. After his experience with Magnus the night before, he knew that strength and confidence made the establishment nervous. That was the first step. Let them know you were a threat.

"Dorian, welcome," Mae said, ushering him inside. She was dressed in a floor length silk dressing gown, even though it was late in the morning. The teal silk swished softly as she swept across the marble floor.

"I need to be here in Minrathous," he blurted out. She grinned, but he pressed on. "But I can't leave Theodane. He's more than my lover. He's more than a partner. He's the only man I'll ever truly love and I can't give that up. But I can't give up being here, either." He collapsed into one of her overstuffed chairs and buried his face in his hands. The sudden outpouring of emotion was both painful and relieving. He looked up, blinking away the warmth gathering in his eyes. "Would we be able to…"

She shook her head and sat down next to him. "Asking him to come here and live with you right now? You may as well stab him in the back yourself." Dorian nodded, knowing that was what Mae was going to say. Theo was too powerful; he was a threat through all of Thedas, regardless of how much he protested that he was not. Orlais and Ferelden were just the first to be vocal about his power. Tevinter was, as always, far more subtle in assessing its enemy, and when necessary, disposing of it.

Mae called for tea, and they sat in her study. Dorian paced and Mae listened as he thought aloud. "I could write letters, but those will be intercepted. Ravens will be shot down. I… I just don't know, Mae," he said with a sigh.

"Would you choose him over Tevinter?" she asked after a moment of silence.

Dorian closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath. Theo's green eyes; his unruly dark hair; his long, strong fingers touching him in all the right places; his soft lips and the teasing non-kisses when they woke up in the morning… "Yes," he said. "I would. But…"

"It wouldn't be a permanent long-distance thing," Mae offered. "Just to help us get our footing. You're not a Magister, but you can still be of assistance."

"Could I help from abroad?" he asked hopefully. "Especially if I'm not a sitting Magister."

"Your presence here would make things far easier," she told him, and he sighed, even though she knew he was being honest.

He thought for another few moments, wracking his brain for all the things he'd studied and learned of over the years. He had heard of one thing that could work, but it was a long shot. When he told Mae about it she wrinkled her brow. "Such a thing exists. It's just… difficult to get," he explained.

She thought a moment and tapped her chin thoughtfully. "There may be someone who can help. He… has a way of procuring rare goods, and knows the value of discretion. I'll see if we might have an appointment with him and see what he can do."

* * *

Maevaris's contact resided in an ivy-walled mansion on the outskirts of Minrathous proper: far enough from the general hubbub to be private and quiet, but close enough to still be convenient. It was dusk and the air smelled of honeysuckle from the vines that crawled along the walls. They paused before an ominous, dark wooden door. Mae let the knocker fall against it twice before a slave opened the door. "Magister Tilani and Ambassador Pavus of the Inquisition," she said. "The Magister is expecting us."

The slave bowed his head and ushered them inside. Wordlessly he led them through the darkening hallways, pausing to light a lamp at the base of a wide marble staircase. They climbed the stairs and followed the silent slave to the end of the hall. He rapped three times on the door before opening it.

Dorian entered one of the most fabulous libraries he'd ever seen outside of an Imperial Circle. Not even the Inquisition's library quite measured up to this one. It was evident from the floor-to-ceiling shelves that lined the walls that this was a collection that had been gathered and tended to over many years. The mantle and the few shelves that did not hold books boasted any assortment of strange figures, carved out of wood or stone or formed from metal. Magic reverberated all around him. This wasn't merely a Magister's Minrathous dwelling: this was the man's home.

"Magister Tilani," the man said, turning his high-backed leather chair around and folding his hands on the desk. He looked up at Maevaris through his half-spectacles. He rose and came out from behind his large desk. "And this must be Ambassador Pavus." His cool gray eyes swept over Dorian.

"Thank you for meeting with us, Magister Enchinus," Maevaris said, bowing her head once.

"Come now. Let us dispense with the formality for the moment. You know I can't resist a challenge." He grinned slightly, then waved to the still-waiting slave. The slave quickly lit the fire in spite of the warm evening, and then went about lighting the lamps. "Tea, Servos," Enchinus said, and he smiled as if pleased with himself. "Servos. I found it a clever name. Please, be seated."

Dorian and Maevaris took seats across from the desk. Enchinus turned toward his seat. His gleaming brown hair was nearly waist-length with a few silver streaks at his right temple, and the firelight reflected off of the silver that capped his left ear. "Ambassador Pavus, and the Inquisition," he began. "I am Magister Savos Enchinus."

"Magister," Dorian said, also bowing his head in respectful greeting.

Savos cocked his head to the side slightly. He rested his elbows on the desk and folded his hands under his chin. He wore fingerless gloves that extended up to his elbows even in spite of the heat… but come to think of it, even with the fire going Dorian didn't feel warm. "Please, just Savos. I confess you have me curious, Ambassador. Or, may I call you Dorian?" Dorian nodded. "Tevinter's ultimate prodigal son leaves and joins up with the Inquisition, an institution that can procure and acquire anything or anyone it desires. And yet you return to the Imperium, seeking my help. I do love a challenge."

Dorian nodded. "As do I, and the current state of the Imperium is nothing if not challenging," he said. Savos's pleasant grin seemed frozen on his face. He didn't seem to be too much older than Dorian himself. "Maevaris told me that you have ways of acquiring rare items."

"It depends on how rare you want, what your timeline is, and how much you're prepared to offer," Savos said. He opened a drawer and pulled out a roll of parchment. He picked up a quill in his long, thin fingers and dipped it in a pot of ink. "I assume you have answers to those questions?"

Dorian glanced over at Mae, but she sat back and took the cup of tea that Servos brought back. She subtly shook her head and her message was clear: she'd set up this meeting, but the business was Dorian's. "It's called a sending crystal. I need it as soon as you can get it, and I am with the Inquisition, so I am able to pull from deep coffers."

"Are you, though?" Savos asked as he scrawled down Dorian's requests. "Does your husband oversee any of that, or would his advisors bring such a large debit to his attention?"

At that Maevaris did turn to stare at Dorian. Her brow was wrinkled, her blue eyes confused, and the slightest frown formed on her face. Savos chuckled and set the quill back in the inkwell. "And here you thought I just procured items, Magister Tilani," he told her, shaking his head. "I'm also gifted in acquiring information, which is often more valuable than tangible goods. For once I know more than you."

Dorian remained unflappable. "If I have to go elsewhere I will," he said with an offhand shrug. He didn't want to have to employ Leliana's services for something like this. It was enough that he'd gone through her to reacquire his family heirloom pendant. No, this had to stay between Tevinters.

Savos knew as much; it had been an easy bluff to call. "What you ask for does exist. It can be procured, but it may take longer than your… rushed timeline."

"It can be delivered to me at my next location," Dorian said. "I would just prefer to have it as soon as it can be acquired." He sipped his tea: spicy, with a hint of vanilla and citrus. "I will of course pay extra for the rush."

Savos smiled. "Yes. Yes, you will, Ambassador Pavus. Or is it Trevelyan? Pavus-Trevelyan? Did he hyphenate as well?"

"I'll pay you more to avoid the sarcastic commentary on my personal life," Dorian offered.

"Dear Ambassador, you can afford many things, but you cannot afford that price," Savos told him with a chuckle.

They took their leave; Dorian knew he was going to pay dearly for this, in more ways than one, but it was for Theo. It was for them. It was worth it.

Especially when, three days later, a breathless Inquisition messenger showed up at his apartments, letter in hand. He'd been summoned to appear at the Exalted Council in Halamshiral in a week's time. He didn't want to think it, but in his gut he knew: the fate of the Inquisition and the fate of Tevinter were tied together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Magister Savos Enchinus appears courtesy of Tamarandom; please see her art on deviantArt!


	12. The Show Must Go On

Two years ago Halamshiral had changed him, and not for the better. As Theo rode into the city uncomfortable memories about that trip prodded the back of his mind like a tongue poking at a sore tooth. He sat straight in the saddle, shoulders back and eyes staring ahead. Anyone would think he was probably looking toward the gate of the Winter Palace, but he was focused on the center of Cullen's back as his commander rode ahead of him. He hadn't wanted to be in Halamshiral then; and he wanted it even less, now.

"Smile," Josephine muttered through her own pasted on grin as her horse trotted next to his. "You are ready for this. Even if you're not."

Theo's sigh hissed through his teeth as he made himself smile at the watching crowds. His innards squirmed with nerves and he tried not to listen to the snatches of conversation as he passed.

"The Inquisitor…"

"Ferelden is afraid…"

"The threat has ended; why is the Inquisition ongoing?"

He had begged and pleaded with Josephine to negotiate via correspondence; he'd given her full permission to go in his place and speak on his behalf. He'd even jokingly suggested bribery, and he was pretty sure that they could hear her screaming at him as far away as Antiva. So in the end he'd replied to the invitation to the Exalted Council that he would "be honored to attend."

Invitation? More like a summons. Even though the sky overhead was brilliant blue and cloudless, and the spring sun warm and promising summer, Theo had the uncomfortable feeling that he was riding toward a trial.

He had never asked for any of this, and yet he'd dived in headlong and done all he could to defeat the ancient threat of Corypheus. He'd stopped an Avvar god, embodied in a dragon, from destroying southern Orlais. He'd closed the breach and countless Fade rifts that spewed demons into the world. Not because he wanted to, but because it needed to be done, and he was the only one who could do it. And now he was the threat?

_This will take everything from you._ He recalled the words of Ameriden, the first and only other Inquisitor. Ameriden had been lost to history, and what was known of him was what the Chantry wanted people to know. Theo had spent the last weeks wondering (Dorian would have accused him of brooding) how history would remember him. Then the Exalted Council had been announced, and he realized he might not have to wonder much longer.

The roar of the crowds died as he passed through the gates and into the walls of the Winter Palace; though the clanging of the outer gates filled him with dread. There had never been any turning back, in any of this.

A page led them through secret passages from the stables and into the palace so Theo would not have to face the throngs of people looking for an impromptu audience with the Inquisitor. He then led them up to the guest wing. "Your rooms have been checked for any potential security breaches," he said with a bow. "We trust you will find them safe as well as luxurious."

"Are we anticipating assassins?" Theo asked Josephine when the page had left them. "It wouldn't be Halamshiral without someone trying to kill me, after all." He tried to smile, but the memories of his last visit were still raw, and his left arm still hurt from time to time. Lately, the pain had been getting worse. Just now his hand hurt, the pain throbbing up his wrist and into his forearm. Sometimes it was just an ache; other times, like now, it felt like stinging fire.

"It is a precaution," Josephine reassured him, though she kept flicking her gaze toward the windows and doors. "I apologize," she said and tried to smile. "The strain is getting to me."

Theo patted her on the shoulder. "You've brokered bargains and deals with every major nation in Thedas. This should be easy enough for you."

"I appreciate your faith, Inquisitor," she said. For one brief, terrifying moment her lower lip trembled.

"This… isn't going to end well." Theo swallowed against the lump in his throat that came with the realization that had been creeping up on him since Cassandra had first told him about this council. Or since Arl Teagan had had him escorted out of Ferelden, and maybe even before then.

"Whether we meant to or not, we created the most powerful organization, aside from the Chantry, in all of Thedas. And we did it in an astonishingly short amount of time. One does not amass our amount of power and resources and not make enemies." She blinked once more and took a deep breath, and was stoic, unreadable, unflappable Josephine once more.

That one moment scared him, though. Josephine had never once cracked in all the time he'd known her. Yes, she could get frustrated with him, personally; but she could broker power and alliances so shrewdly that even Empress Celene deferred to the Inquisition. More often than not Theo felt like he was just the figurehead, a face for the Inquisition; the real power lay in Josephine's political prowess, Leliana's wealth of information, and Cullen's command of the forces.

Josephine left him. Theo fell back on the bed and stared up at the intricately painted ceiling. He missed Dorian fiercely, but he needed this time alone. For now Theo just needed to worry. Dorian would try to calm him and make him see logic. If Theo could mull over his concerns alone for a bit, he felt he might be in a better frame of mind to see Dorian when he arrived from Tevinter.

This last month had been lonely and aimless, waiting for the council while Dorian was away. Theo had destroyed archery targets faster than the troops could bale hay to make more; eventually he'd spent a week out in the Dales, hunting holdout Venatori cells with Iron Bull and the Chargers. It was like Dorian had said, and it compounded his nerves: Theo couldn't _not_ fight anymore.

He stared at his aching hand. The green glow pulsed in time with his heartbeat, some pulses brighter and more painful than others. His marked hand had always been a curiosity to some, source of fear and intimidation to others. Sometimes the light seemed to glow through the scars that criss-crossed the soft skin on the underside of his arm: reminders of what the Venatori had done to him with their blood magic. He wanted to think it was just a trick of the light emanating from his palm, but the itching and burning, even after two years, made him not so sure.

Theo closed his eyes, weary. Only one person could even begin to explain his mark, and that person had vanished after Corypheus's defeat.

A sharp rap sounded on the door and Theo opened his eyes. He was still on the bed, but the angle of the sun through the tall windows had changed and the shadows had lengthened. He smoothed out his clothes and ran a hand over his hair before pasting a smile on his face and opening the door.

"It's not like you to keep me waiting, _Amatus_ ," Dorian said, leaning against the door frame. Even after long travel his dark hair was glossy and perfectly in place and his mustache curled just so. His leather mage armor was polished to a deep sheen and he wore a green and white robe over it. "It's also not like you to stare like you've seen a ghost." He grinned and looked at Theo through those long, dark lashes.

Theo had rehearsed this reunion a thousand times in the last month, several times a day since Dorian's one letter had arrived a week ago, reassuring him that he would indeed be at the Exalted Council. But now that he was finally seeing his husband after so long apart, and with so much weighing on him, he felt suddenly shy and overwhelmed.

"Maker's breath I missed you," he said, pulling Dorian close even in the middle of the hallway. He held tight, feeling Dorian's warmth seep into him, feeling Dorian's solidness against him. He curled his fingers into Dorian's robes and buried his face in Dorian's shoulder, inhaling his spicy, slightly sweet scent and he thought he might collapse with relief.

"And I, you," Dorian murmured, breath warm on his ear. He kissed Theo gently and nudged him toward the room's interior, closing the door behind them. Inside they fell upon the bed, and all the pent up nervous energy Theo had been channeling into fighting, he poured into kissing Dorian. "I told you I'd return," Dorian said breathlessly during a pause between kisses.

"I know," Theo said sheepishly. "I just didn't realize until I saw you how much I missed having you with me." He ran his thumb over Dorian's cheek and drank in his warm skin, his glossy hair, his mysterious pale eyes, and the curve of his mouth. Everything he'd recalled every day for the last month. "I love you so much," he said and kissed him.

Dorian smiled. "And I love you. I'm glad our current stay in the Winter Palace is under better circumstances." He rolled onto his side and rested on his elbow. His brow wrinkled. "Would you _rather_ be fighting off vengeful Venatori?"

"Maker, no," Theo said, staring down at his arm. "Were there many Venatori holdouts in Tevinter?"

"No." Dorian's smile was ironic. "Which is to say, there probably are, but they know when they've been beaten, and have gone to ground to plan their next move."

"What's your next move?" Theo asked.

Dorian's grin spread. "Besides ravishing you properly after a lonely and celibate month?" Theo blushed, but Dorian's grin faded. He took Theo's marked hand and turned it over, the bright glow reflecting in his eyes. "Tevinter was… not quite what I was expecting," he said at last. "And I think I had a taste of what it's like to be you."

"You say it like it's a bad thing," Theo said, attempting to smile.

"I was thrust into this role unexpectedly, but had no idea what I was doing." Dorian shrugged and closed Theo's fingers over the mark. "But it was something to make my father happy, and this council got me out of the way again. I'm an inconvenience, after all."

"Lucky for me," Theo said, snuggling into Dorian.

Nothing had changed; he still had to face the Exalted Council, and the Inquisition's fate still hung in the balance. His hand still felt like it was on fire. But with Dorian back at his side, he felt more relaxed and secure. Dorian had been with him through the most difficult challenges he'd ever faced; he could go into whatever came next, so long as Dorian was with him.

* * *

The next day began with a private breakfast with Divine Victoria. Theo and Dorian were led down the long hallway to Cassandra's resplendent quarters, which were guarded by templars in shining armor and deep red overskirts embroidered with the golden sunburst of the Chantry. Divine Victoria greeted them personally at the door to her rooms while a crowd of nobles looked on and whispered.

"Thank you for coming," she said as they entered and the doors closed behind them. She pulled the miter off her head and shook out her short black hair. "This forsaken thing gets so hot," she grumbled and handed it off to a flustered novice attending her. "Leave us be," she ordered, and kept walking. Theo had a hard time repressing a smile; she was the Divine, but Cassandra would always be _Cassandra_.

When the novice had left them Cassandra turned, her vestments swishing around her legs, and surprised Theo with a hug. "It is good to see you once more, Inquisitor," she said, pulling back and smiling. "You as well, Dorian. I am glad you've both come; I'm sorry it had to come to this. I tried to delay as long as I could, but Ferelden is having no more of it. I only hope we can devise a strategy before the Council itself begins."

Strategy. The last few years of Theo's life had been spent gathering information, amassing forces, and planning strategies. He followed Cassandra into the conservatory. Morning sunlight streamed through the tall windows, glinting off the gold accents in the room. A spread of breakfast pastries and teas had been laid out, but Theo was too nervous to eat. He poured a cup of tea and sat next to Leliana.

"It's all foolish posturing, really," Vivienne was telling Leliana and Josephine. "What can they do?"

"Ferelden has reason to fear the Inquisition," Leliana told her. "Their history of occupation has left them uneasy with us right on their borders." She glanced over at Theo. "Redcliffe was exceedingly grateful that you were able to get the mages to leave; things have been quiet there since, but in the absence of conflict they grow nervous."

"I don't want to invade them," Theo said quietly, staring at the ghostlike steam that rose from his tea. "World domination is pretty low on my list of priorities. It's actually so low, it's not even a priority."

But Ferelden didn't know that, and there was precious little Theo could do to prove his intentions to Arl Teagan, advisor to King Alistair. Cassandra paced. She reached at her side to grip her sword, which of course wasn't there. The warrior in her could not be squelched. It made Theo smile with some relief: in spite of how many things had changed and were going to change, so much was still the same.

Josephine and Leliana took their leave, and Vivienne headed for the spa. "I daresay an hour of relaxation and pampering might do you some good, darling," she said as she departed.

"It sounds lovely," Dorian said, then looked between Vivienne and Theo. "Ah, of course you meant our tightly wound Inquisitor," he added, lips curling in a teasing smile. He squeezed Theo's shoulder. Vivienne's tinkling laugh faded as she left, an act put on to convince anyone listening that the morning's brunch had been nothing more than a casual gathering of old friends.

"I suppose it was too much to hope you'd be able to convince them all to drop this thing," Theo told Cassandra. He leaned on the windowsill, staring out the open window that overlooked her private gardens—planted, it was rumored, especially for Divine Victoria's visit.

"I will not abandon the Inquisition that I started," Cassandra said. She tugged at the constricting collar of her vestments and sneered slightly. "I could not, even if I wanted to. The Inquisition is still necessary, though few understand why. Unfortunately as the Divine I must remain neutral and impartial." She glanced over at Theo, her shrewd hazel eyes slightly narrowed and the corner of her mouth quirked upward. "Secretly I support you and your organization."

"And read Varric's books," he pointed out. He wasn't surprised that Cassandra was on his side; beyond being the two most powerful people in southern Thedas, they'd build the Inquisition from nothing, and in the process, a friendship. Even if she had to appear neutral, knowing that he had her support meant a great deal.

The rest of the morning was spent smiling and posturing and letting Josephine do the talking while he nodded and tried to appear aloof, rarely giving more than one or two word answers. Arl Teagan, the Fereldan ambassador, was cordial enough, but Theo detected the chill in his voice as he questioned where Skyhold was situated according to a map of Thedas. That uncomfortable discussion only became more awkward when one of the Orlesian nobles on the Council of Heralds passed by at _just_ the right moment to suggest that the Inquisition might benefit from their guidance. "Thank you, but the Inquisition has always set its own course," Theo said. He was so tired of the posturing and half-truths. If the Inquisition was in jeopardy, he was going to fight this battle on his terms as the Inquisitor.

Josephine wasn't pleased with that response and Theo left her falling over herself with apologies to both Teagan and Cyril de Monfort. When she found him a bit later, hiding in a shadowed gazebo on the edges of the gardens, she was not pleased. "Do you have any idea what is at stake here?" she hissed, even though no one was around.

"I know exactly what's at stake," he countered. "But I'm done playing games."

Her nostrils flared. "This could be the end of the Inquisition as we know it. Or the end of the Inquisition entirely."

A horn sounded, signaling the start of the council. Theo's heart beat faster and he felt a little dizzy. His left hand pulsed with painful magic, sending tingles like sharp needles through his veins up toward his shoulder. It hurt more and more every day, but with the concern about the council he hadn't thought much about it. It was just part of him, part of what it meant to be Inquisitor.

He stood and wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs. "If we're going to give them a show, it may as well be a good one," he said, and marched toward the gates of the Winter Palace.


	13. Trevelyan on Trial

_9:41 Dragon_

He was in so much pain he wasn't sure he was feeling anything anymore. That didn't stop the guard from striking him across the jaw once again. "Tell me what you did and why!" the man snarled from behind his grated face mask.

"I… I don't know." He hardly heard his own voice over the roar of blood pulsing in his ears. Another spasm of pain jolted through his body. Yes, definitely still feeling it. He shuddered uncontrollably, the chains overhead rattling and the manacles rubbing his wrists to stinging, raw meat. His mouth tasted like blood and ash. Why in the Void did he hurt so badly, and why was this man making it so much worse?

"You _will_ talk," the interrogator said. The man slammed a fist into his gut and his shoulder sockets screamed out in agony.

He struggled to breathe. "I don't know what you want me to say!" he choked out. His vision was blurry. It was dark; torchlight burned around the edges of his vision, and over it all a haze of bright green. And when the green light flared, so did the pain. "I'll say anything you want me to. What happened?"

He hung his head down. The pulling pain in his arms and shoulders intensified and he was pretty sure he was crying but he couldn't care. Then a hand grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. The face before him swam in front of his vision. "What is your name?" The voice was female and thickly accented.

"Th… Theo. Theodane Tr..Trevelyan," he said, voice shaking.

"Let him down. Keep him under guard, though."

"Yes, Seeker."

The chains clanked and Theo hit the floor hard, but the stone was cool on his aching face and the burning began to seep out of his arms. His vision was still blurry, but he could see his left hand blazing bright bile-green. It flared once again and that same spasm of pain left his body seizing on the cold floor. The pain slowly passed and he curled his knees into his stomach and lay there, shivering. What had he done? Why was he here, chained and tortured like a criminal?

"Up, Trevelyan." The guard hauled him to his knees.

"What happened?" he asked again. His voice sounded like he'd been gargling gravel and acid.

"The Divine is _dead_ ," the woman snapped.

The cold that ran through him was almost worse than the pain. "Dead? The Divine?"

"They are _all_ dead!" she shouted, and he winced away from her. A sword point in the back forced him to stay facing her. "All dead, but you." She spat at the ground in front of him.

"I… I don't know what happened," he told her. She crouched down and grabbed his chin between her strong fingers. He tried to meet her intense stare. She was all angles and lines, harsh cheekbones and a strong jaw and deep-cut scar on her cheek. Her eyes were hard as they searched him. "I don't even remember the Conclave," he told her, which was true; he only remembered how badly he didn't want to be at it. He squeezed his eyes closed but the only thing he saw was green light pulsing there.

The light pulsed brighter and he cried out and lurched forward, holding his burning hand to him. "Please, I didn't… I don't know…"

"Justinia is dead! You alone walked out of the Fade and must answer for that!" the woman shouted.

"Peace, Cassandra," another woman said, voice soft and sweet. The one called Cassandra backed away, and the other knelt before him. Her light blue eyes searched his face. She held a skin of water up to his lips, and Theo drank greedily. "Perhaps he should see for himself," she suggested. She looked back to him. "If you truly do not recall, then you may need reminding." Her voice was gentle, but her meaning ominous.

The throbbing in his head convinced him that he wasn't going to remember anything; but if it would keep Cassandra and this other woman from killing him, he would agree to anything right about now. He nodded even though it made his brain feel like it was sloshing around in his skull. Two guards helped him to his feet and he staggered after Cassandra and the other woman. A couple times he was pretty sure his legs were about to give out. He hauled himself up the torch-lit staircase- no small feat with how he was feeling. They emerged in a Chantry hallway and marched toward the exit.

The heavy wooden doors were opened and Theo squinted at the harsh daylight. He tried to shield his eyes the best he could with his bound (and glowing) hands.

The first thing that scared him was the silence. The square outside the Chantry was filled with people who stopped and stared at him wordlessly. As Cassandra led him forward he felt the hatred in their eyes turned on him. Why? He hadn't killed the Divine; he couldn't do that. Could he?

The second thing that scared him was the gaping, bright green hole in the sky that swirled like a maelstrom. The green tear in the heavens shuddered and with a howl the green light flashed. Theo fell to his knees as the pain in his hand shot up his arm and into his skull. "What is it?" he asked through clenched teeth.

Cassandra looked at him, then back to the sky. "We call it the Breach. It appeared just after the Conclave explosion, just before you walked out of the Fade." She said it accusingly, as if he'd planned to walk away from such wanton destruction. As for the Fade, he was no mage. And they didn't walk in or out of the Fade anymore; everyone knew that. "Somehow it is connected to that mark on your hand."

It was true: the Breach and the mark were the same acidic green color. "I don't know what this is," he told her, desperate to prove his innocence.

"It keeps expanding," Cassandra told him. "And with each expansion it is slowly killing you."

Killing him? He looked at the green light. He ran a finger over his flashing palm. The skin was intact and not bleeding. It looked like a slash of green light over his hand. And yet it pulsed in time with the swirling storm above.

"You truly have no memory of what happened," the blue-eyed, softer-spoken woman stated. He shook his head. "I'm going to the forward camp," she said, decisively. "You should bring him. He should see this up close." She headed off, away from the village.

Cassandra adjusted her sword belt and paused to pick up a shield. Theo followed her, pausing only when another spasm of light and pain wracked his body. He straightened up and glanced around to see the villagers still glaring at him in hateful silence. Only when they'd left the village and stood outside the gate and on a mountain path did Cassandra produce a key and undo the manacles around his wrists. Her hard gaze searched him. "The people of Haven have judged you and found you guilty already. They look for someone to blame for this senseless tragedy."

He shook out his stiff arms. He couldn't quite meet her eyes. "And what of you?" he asked after a moment.

Cassandra crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a long, appraising look. "I think I shall reserve judgment until we reach the forward camp," she said at last. "As for now, I do not think you the threat they've made you out to be."

* * *

_9:44 Dragon_

"Do you deny those charges?"

Theo blinked and looked up at Arl Teagan, seated behind a table on a dais. Next to him Josephine sat up straight and proper, but under the table she was trying to kick him. "Please repeat that, Arl Teagan," Theo said, ignoring the murmurs behind him.

"Do you deny that you marched a military force into the Frostback Basin?"

"No."

"Do you deny that you were ready to mount an incursion into Ferelden?"

Theo raised an eyebrow. "Absolutely I deny that. The Inquisition was asked to assist with academic work sponsored by the University of Orlais. Hostile forces in the region led to combat. Those same hostile forces were led by a man bent on unleashing an ancient god embodied in a dragon. We defeated the hostile forces, neutralized the dragon, and headed north. We did not seek to linger any longer than our presence was necessary," he said. He met Teagan's eyes.

Duke Cyril de Montfort cleared his throat. "Perhaps this would be best laid to rest with the testimony of University staff?" he asked, and the door at the back of the room creaked open. Several robed professors, including Bram Kenric himself, marched in.

Theo sat back in his chair. Yes, this testimony would be in the Inquisition's favor. But he didn't like that Duke Cyril had orchestrated it without telling him. It was all a ploy to make him grateful to the little weasel and his Council of Heralds. It was also troubling that words like 'charges' and 'testimony' were being thrown around. Those were legal terms, only serving to convince Theo all the more that this was really a trial. But because they were in Orlais, it had to parade around in a fancy mask.

He lost track of time as the University gushed about the value of the Inquisition as a patron of education and knowledge. He stared out a window behind Cassandra, whom he noted with a certain satisfaction looked as bored as he felt.

"Inquisitor." Theo focused again as Duke Cyril leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. His face was unreadable behind his gold mask, but Theo already didn't trust the man. "You've been of great assistance to the arts and academics, and for that, Orlais thanks you."

"But?" Theo prompted, and next to him Josephine inhaled sharply.

"Your… alliance with Tevinter is slightly worrisome. To some," the duke added quickly. "Some might accuse you of abusing your power to twist the Chantry's arm to help you solidify this… alliance."

He wanted to throw up, and judging from the smug look on Teagan's face, and what he could tell from Duke Cyril's body language, they both knew it. "I have no alliance with Tevinter," he said, keeping his voice even. "This is not a political marriage."

"Come now, Inquisitor, not even _you_ are so rare that you would truly marry for love," Duke Cyril said. Theo wished he had his bow. He would shoot him right through the eye socket of his stupid gold mask. "But that you would have the Divine officiate…"

The eruption of whispers and murmurs behind him left him feeling too hot, then too chilled. He wanted to tell them to shut up- that they had it all wrong, that Cassandra was a friend. And then he realized, with one glance at Cassandra, that this was Cyril de Montfort's way of playing her as well. He couldn't attack the Divine, not outright, so he would go after the next most powerful person. "Her Perfection was a friend to me long before she took the Sunburst Throne," Theo said, trying to keep from sounding like he was being choked. "And I assure you, there is no political alliance between the Inquisition and the Imperium."

"Which is why Dorian Pavus was named the Inquisition's Ambassador to Tevinter?"

" _By_ the Tevinter Imperium, my Lord," Josephine interjected. "I have brought the documents that named him, and you will see that Lord Pavus's presence was requested by the Imperium, _not_ assigned by the Inquisition. If you look at the dates on this, and on the correspondence sent between Inquisitor Trevelyan and Her Perfection, you will see that they were in correspondence long before this missive."

Maker bless Josephine's meticulous record keeping skills.

An hour later the Divine declared they were done for the day. Arl Teagan tried to protest while Duke Cyril acquiesced so sweetly, Theo thought he might give everyone in the room rotted teeth. Theo got up and marched past the rows of people eager to be an audience to the Inquisitor's downfall. Those eyes: watching, boring into him, judging him.

But for what? What crime had he committed, other than trying to protect Thedas, other than following his heart and being true to himself?

Back in his rooms he paced the floors, shaking out his glowing, aching hand. He paused to look out the window over yet more gardens, and to the high walls beyond. What if he just ran away? They were bent on discrediting him and destroying him and the Inquisition as he knew it. He could run north. Cross into Tevinter and wait for Dorian.

"You don't want to do that," Dorian told him, when he'd slipped into their room and Theo mentioned what he'd been thinking. "It's a terrible place. Boring, and full of nasty people."

"Like here?" Theo asked. He flopped onto the bed and curled up in a fetal position. Dorian joined him, resting his head on a brocade bolster. Theo took Dorian's hand. "I'm sorry they dragged you into it that way this afternoon."

"I'm quite used to being the subject of scrutiny." Dorian reached out and traced a finger down the scar on Theo's face. "They don't truly believe that you're sleeping with the enemy, _Amatus_. They're trying to get to you, and by extension to Cassandra. She took a big risk wedding us."

Theo sighed. "I know."

"She wouldn't have done it if she didn't think she was up to the scrutiny, or to the political games they would play with her."

"I know."

"I love you."

Theo smiled and squeezed Dorian's hand. "I know."

* * *

Cassandra slipped through the secret passageway and closed the door behind her. She'd abandoned her mitre and vestments. "The Divine is holding vigil, deep in prayer for wisdom," she explained when Leliana arched her eyebrow.

"Is it… legal for the Divine to lie?" Dorian asked.

"It is not a lie," Cassandra said. "I have prayed for wisdom. And do so every moment I can. And meeting secretly with you all is my vigil. It is open to interpretation." She grinned slightly.

"Cassandra, I-" Theo began, but she groaned and rolled her eyes.

"No. You will not apologize for that arrogant lickspittle baiting us. I'd be half tempted to call him out for heresy, if it wouldn't damage our cause," she said. The way she said 'our cause' helped calm the butterflies in Theo's stomach.

"They are going to try to dismantle us, aren't they," Josephine said, and Cassandra nodded. "But the Inquisition is-"

"I know," Cassandra said. "We all know. Even they know, which is why they fear us. There are options though."

"Alternatives to being shut down or controlled?" Theo asked. He rubbed his eyes. It felt like all the sand from the Western Approach was caught behind his eyelids.

"There is precedent for the Divine to appoint an honor guard," Cassandra said. The way she knew what she was talking about, she'd clearly done research and known it may come to this. "If you agree to 'disband' the Inquisition in name, you could continue to serve in your capacity. Just not as Inquisitor."

Theo leaned against the wall and stared at his marked hand. "It's… something to think about," he said at last, aware of everyone watching him.

The truth was, he didn't know that he wanted to give up the Inquisition. He'd talked about retiring with Dorian. He'd thought about running away. But when it came down to it, he'd developed an identity as the Inquisitor. His marked hand made him someone. It made him the Inquisitor, not just the shy youngest son from the relatively small holding of Ostwick.

Everyone took their leave. As Cassandra headed back toward the secret passage she surprised him with a hug. "I never asked for any of this," he whispered.

"I know." She held him tight. "But for what it's worth, I do not think you are the threat they make you out to be." She tried to smile and then headed down the darkened passage.

Cassandra didn't see him as a threat. Now if he could only convince the rest of the Council.


	14. Through the Looking Glass

Thankfully, Theo's love life was off the table the next day. But it was still a trial with an endless stream of witnesses and testimonies. "Did we call any witnesses?" he whispered to Josephine as another noble took the stand, called by Cyril de Montfort.

"I wasn't under the impression that we had to," she whispered back.

"So you agree that this is a crock of druffalo shit."

"Inquisitor!" she hissed, kicking him under the table, even as she tried to keep a smile on her face and her cheeks flushed.

Whatever wonderful things Duke Cyril's plants had had to say about the Inquisition, Arl Teagan was able to dismiss with his frosty glare and paranoia. "Master Dennett came to work as the Inquisition's horse master after the Inquisition secured the safety of the Redcliffe Farms region," Josephine said. Some of her conciliatory tone was gone: she too had nearly had enough. "He was not coerced, and he is compensated. If he'd like to return to Redcliffe he may. Otherwise we'd happily consult with him to find a replacement?"

"Dennett served my brother Eamon during the Blight, and supplied many of the mounts to Redcliffe's knights in the march on Denerim," Teagan said, and Theo closed his eyes so he didn't have to see the man's reddening face and bulging eyes.

"I will personally see that Dennett knows he's requested back in Redcliffe, and ask for his recommendations for a replacement at Skyhold," Theo said in the same even tone of voice Josephine used, only his words sounded slightly hollow and dead. At this point he was just trying to make people happy.

Even acquiescing to Teagan's demands wasn't going to be enough. "You marched into Ferelden believing you could do whatever you wanted-"

"I seem to recall a time when you were grateful for our presence and our aid," Theo said, sitting up straighter, his voice cold. "And since that time we've never made any sort of antagonistic move. If anyone is being antagonistic here, Arl Teagan, it's you."

Josephine groaned. Cassandra was trying not to smile, trying to hold her tongue and be neutral, and she caught his eye. She subtly shook her head and Theo sighed and slumped back again.

"The Inquisitor _does_ have a point," Duke Cyril began, and that started off a shouting match across Cassandra. The Divine actually scooted her seat back from the table slightly so they didn't have to scream at one another across her miter.

Arl Teagan slammed his hat down on the table. "Ferelden has been occupied before, and I won't let it happen again on my watch." He glared down at Theo. "If you allow the Council of Heralds to have their way, they will turn you against us."

"You have a high opinion of Duke Cyril's ability to sway me," Theo said with a grin.

"Arl Teagan, I assure you once again that Orlais only means to serve in an advisory position to the Inquisition!" Cyril de Montfort protested.

Theo closed his eyes and clenched his throbbing hand close to him. All the emotions swirled around him like a large Fade rift. He kept his hand as hidden as possible, but it was quite likely that any moment the maelstrom of emotions would result in him tearing open the Fade right there in the middle of the room. _Then_ what would the Exalted Council think of him?

He jumped when someone tapped his shoulder. A young woman in Inquisition livery slipped a rolled up note into his hand and darted away. Theo unrolled it. In Leliana's loopy scrawl she'd written, _"Outside main gardens. Now."_

Leliana wouldn't pull him out of this for no good reason. Even if he asked her to bail him out, she wouldn't have. He shoved his chair back and marched out of the room. Everyone was murmuring. Teagan was shouting something; Cassandra was groaning, Josephine was stammering apologies. But Theo couldn't even feel relieved at getting out of there. Anything that would have Leliana jeopardizing the trial-council, that was- had to be bad.

Theo all but ran down the pathways that led to the gardens, his heart pumping and his hand burning. He found Leliana with the Iron Bull, Krem, and Varric, who'd been appointed Viscount of Kirkwall last year and had come to the council to support the Inquisition. They looked up when he approached, but there were no smiles of greeting. Just the grim lines and hard stares of people who had seen too much, and were now seeing more of the same.

He knew it wasn't going to be good, but what he didn't realize was just _how bad_ it truly was. Wordlessly he approached them and looked down at an oddly armored warrior: very out of place, and very dead. But none of his friends had weapons out. "I hope this is good, otherwise Ferelden may want my head on a pike," he said, but it came out shaky, not nearly as irritated as he wished he sounded.

"This is Qunari armor," Bull said, kneeling down. "Human. Viddathari." Bull rolled the body over to reveal a gaping, bloody wound in the torso. He looked behind him. "Guy bled out, and slowly, too. Footprints lead toward the trellises. Didn't want to start an investigation of something like this without you, Boss," he added, trying to smile.

So even Bull was worried.

Theo followed the bloody footprints, aware of Leliana, Krem, Bull, and Varric behind him. "How would a Qunari warrior get into the Winter Palace, without raising the alarm?" Theo asked. Smears of blood marred the white-painted trellises and drops of blood clung to the leaves and flower petals.

"That's why we called you," Varric said. "All this shit is weird-which may be the title of my next book-and you seem to be good at dealing with weird shit."

"Thanks, I think," Theo muttered. He grabbed the trellis and started climbing. He hauled himself up onto a landing and saw more bloody prints leading into a room. "Leliana, come see this," he called, and she climbed up without question. "The rest of you… find Dorian, Cullen, and Josephine and wait for us in my chambers. Sneak in the back ways, and only one or two at at a time so you don't draw attention."

Bull and the others complied without question. "He came from inside the Palace," Leliana said, following the prints with Theo. "He didn't just breach the defenses on the grounds."

He glanced over at her. Her blue eyes were narrowed and he could practically see the nugs running around in her head. "You're thinking something."

"I am. And I hope I'm wrong."

They entered a quiet, dusty storage room. Sheets and canvasses covered pieces of unused furniture, and a crumpled sheet on the floor had a bloody streak on it. It lay on the floor before a large mirror that showed no reflection.

"I'm not wrong," Leliana whispered and swore softly under her breath.

Theo felt icy and hot all at the same time. "How did an Eluvian get into the Winter Palace?" he asked, but neither he nor Leliana had any answers. He reached out his marked hand toward the glass; the green light did not shine back. He held his breath and touched the glass. The surface swirled and parted like watery curtains, showing a hazy land beyond. He reached through the glass and screamed as magic seared up his arm and into his shoulder and down his ribs. He collapsed to the floor, holding his arm to him and squeezing his eyes closed until he saw stars. He didn't realize he was trembling, rocking back and forth, until Leliana knelt beside him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"It hurts," she murmured, holding his head to her shoulder.

"Worse than ever before," he admitted in a strangled voice. He shivered as the spasms of pain faded. "Andraste's arse, Leliana… I'm so tired," he admitted. He felt the tension leave his muscles as he slumped against her, as if admitting it had released something inside of him. He'd told Dorian his frustrations and reservations a thousand times or more. But for the rest of the world, including his closest circle of friends and advisors, he'd refused to show vulnerability. "I don't know if I can do this again," he whispered.

She held him at arm's length and searched his face. Theo bit his lip and clenched his fists, trying to quell the rising panic. "I have faced armies with You as my shield." She took his left hand, unconcerned by the flaring mark, and pushed back his sleeve. She rested her cool hand on the scars there. "Though I bear scars beyond counting, nothing can break me but Your absence," she finished.

He remembered the vision of a dark future, where Leliana had proclaimed she would not break. She had a faith that he didn't. And looking through the Eluvian, and at his sparking palm, he wondered if it was too late for that. "Let's meet the others," he said, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "I'll be fine. I always am."

Leliana didn't question him. She helped him to his feet and they slipped through twisting hidden passages until they came to the one leading into Theo's room. They stepped out from behind the bookcase. Theo expected questions, but he didn't expect the stinging slap that Josephine landed across his cheek. "I deserved that," he said.

"How could you leave me there like that?" Josephine asked, her normally controlled voice tight and screechy. "How could you let him do that to me?" she asked Leliana, her amber eyes wide, nostrils flared, and her hands in fists at her side.

Bull stepped forward and explained the situation, and then Leliana told them about finding the Eluvian. Josephine had taken a seat on the edge of a brocade covered chair and seemed a bit more appeased upon hearing about this new turn of events, but Theo could see the wheels moving in her mind as she tried to figure out how she was going to stall the council. "So… are we going through that thing?" Bull finished. His jaw was set, his huge arms crossed over his chest, and his one eye watching Theo.

The last time Theo had felt truly small compared to the Bull was when they'd first met outside of Haven. Since then he rarely thought of Bull being a huge Qunari; he was just the Bull. Theo took a deep breath and flexed his hand. "Josephine, can you and Varric and Vivienne do some damage control around here?" Josephine nodded. "Cullen, make sure things remain secure. Leliana, get your scouts out and talk to Cassandra." He began unbuttoning his fancy coat and stripped down to the undershirt. He started rummaging for something more suitable to trekking into Maker-knew-where. "If the nobles want a show, they're going to get one."

"And us?" Bull asked, referring to himself, Krem, and Dorian.

"We're going through."

"Thought so."

Theo sighed. "If there was a dead Qunari warrior, I need to know why they're moving through Eluvians, especially if they hate magic so much, and there's nothing much more magical than an Eluvian." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Bull."

"Don't be, Boss. I'd kind of like to know what the fuck's going on myself." Bull managed a smile and headed out to find Krem.

Everyone else left but Dorian. Theo sat on the edge of the bed, half dressed. "It will never be enough," he murmured.

He expected Dorian to tell him he was being silly, to dismiss it with a flippant comment and a light kiss. Dorian climbed onto the bed and sat behind him, and wrapped his arms around him. "No, it won't," Dorian said simply. He squeezed Theo, and Theo felt the magic buzzing just under Dorian's skin. He leaned back against Dorian. "I love you, Theodane Trevelyan," Dorian whispered, resting his head on Theo's shoulder.

"I love you too, Dorian Pavus," Theo said, taking one more moment to soak in Dorian's comforting warmth before he finished dressing, armoring up, and grabbing his bow.

Theo never would have found his way through the twisting hidden passages, so they stalked through the halls until he found the storeroom. Bull and Krem were waiting for them. "There may not be any turning back," Theo said after a moment of tense silence.

"There never was," Bull told him. The huge Qunari stared into the deep darkness of the mirror. His face was completely expressionless, which meant he was not happy about what he was about to find. Krem stood next to the Bull, his brow furrowed and hand on his sword hilt. He glanced over at Theo and nodded once to show he understood.

Dorian rested a hand on his shoulder and Theo felt the magic buzzing from his fingertips. It was reassuring. He took a deep breath and reached for the mirror with his marked hand. The darkness swirled around to reveal the world beyond. He glanced back to Dorian, Bull, and Krem one last time. "Are you with me?" he asked.

Bull and Krem nodded. Dorian smiled. "You ask the silliest questions."

It was just what he needed to take the first step through the Eluvian, to the world beyond.


	15. Beyond the Beyond

"Varric was right," Krem said, standing on a precipice, overlooking the half-dozen or so Eluvians that they could see. "This shit _is_ weird."

Theo had been in the Crossroads, the world between Eluvians, twice before. Both times he'd been with the witch Morrigan, who knew where she was going, and guided him. Now he stood, looking between the bloody footprints heading up to another mirror, and the mirror behind them, through which he could still see glimpses of the storage room at the Winter Palace. "Story of my life, Krem," he said at last, trying to smile. He drew an arrow from his quiver and loosely nocked it. "Let's go."

They followed the bloody prints up a rocky path to another Eluvian. Theo didn't hesitate: he stepped right through, and emerged in a dark stone hallway. He climbed a set of stairs, bow at the ready, and then came out on a stone tower that overlooked mountains and meadows of wildflowers. A blue lake glittered in the distance and the air was warm, drowsy, and fragrant. And it was definitely not Orlais.

The ruins were elven; he recognized the architecture from the Temple of Mythal. But this didn't look anything like the densely overgrown Arbor Wilds. Wherever they were now was beyond anywhere Theo had ever been before.

"Check this out, Chief," Krem said, his voice cutting through the silence. "Scorch marks everywhere. And… this is too realistic to be sculpture. Don't know many artists who'd sculpt an ugly Qunari arse, especially in some lost elven ruin." But he wasn't smiling as he looked up at the stone Qunari, its mouth open in a battle cry-or a final scream.

"The mage that made this fire was strong," Dorian said quietly, looking around. "I can still feel their magic lingering."

The Iron Bull carefully examined each statue with his single eye. "They're not Tal-Vashoth. Their armor is Antaam-issue. And no sculptor would get that level of detail, even if he took the time to carve our ugly asses," he added with a half-grin in Krem's direction. "And this blood is still fresh."

Theo should have known better than to hope that this trek would be better than sitting in the Exalted Council. He headed up a wide stone stairwell, craning his neck to see the top of the tower. Where in Thedas could such intact and serene elven ruins still exist? Were they even farther south than the Arbor Wilds?

The mark on his hand flared suddenly, crackling and hissing. He gritted his teeth together and clenched his hand, willing the pain away. But as he stepped onto the walkway, his hand nearly exploded with light and energy and pain. He fell to one knee and dropped his bow, and when he looked up after a moment he was not alone. The translucent forms of elven spirits stood before him, bows trained on him. The largest had a maul resting on its shoulder. The empty eyes stared at him. "I'm no threat," he said, looking up at them.

A barrage of arrows loosed from the ghostly bows. Behind him, Dorian and Bull cried out. At this range Theo should have felt every single fatal shot, but when he opened his eyes he viewed the world through a green haze. A thin thread of magic flowed from his marked hand to the wall of the dome, and the ghost arrows were dissolving on the stones. The mark had saved him yet again.

Or it had saved itself. He was little more than a host.

Bull and Krem leapt up the last few stairs and flew past Theo, Bull swinging his own maul and Krem lunging with sword and shield. Dorian passed through the protective field easily and stood beside Theo, casting a static cage spell over the ghostly guards. Lightning arced down, shocking them and allowing Bull and Krem openings to get fatal hits in.

The guards faded into wisps that blew away on the gentle breeze. "At least that was a clean fight," Krem remarked, examining his sword.

"You okay, Boss?" Bull asked, reaching out to help Theo to his feet.

Theo looked at Bull, Krem, and Dorian: three of the shrewdest people he knew, who could cut through bullshit with the sharpness of their glares alone. "No. I don't think I am," he admitted, staring down at his hand. "Whatever this place is… it's affecting my mark in a way that it's never been affected before. Without blood magic to help it, that is," he said. He shook his hand out and started walking around the tower. The tower wasn't the only edifice here: there was a fortress of some sort in the distance, and as they looked around, they found more active Eluvians.

"Smart to use these for moving around a city quickly," Bull said, arms crossed over his chest. Even if he was suspicious of magic he could appreciate its practical uses. "Could bring us to that fortress down there."

"Or get us lost in the middle of nowhere," Krem said without a trace of irony in his voice.

"Well, if I have to get lost in ancient elven ruins, I can't think of better company," Dorian said, trying to keep his tone light and musical. He caught Theo's hand in his own and squeezed. A warm, calming feeling flowed up his arm and faint blue light glowed at the edge of his vision. Dorian was a talented and powerful mage, but was also the first to admit that he was no healer. That he would try to send a surge of what healing magic he could muster into Theo was enough to make him want to cry with gratitude.

They searched the tower but found no more ghostly resistance. It felt like time had stopped here, but when it had stopped was hard to say. Theo paused before a tile mosaic of a wolf. The tiles were in various shades of green and gold and brown, and some were even the same acid green of his glowing mark. He reached up to touch one such tile and a barrage of visions rushed into his head. For an eternal moment he was surrounded by elves: thin, scared, tired, worn. One wore a cloak made of a wolf's pelt and guided them. He spoke words of reassurance and peace. He called the valley his sanctuary.

Just as quickly the vision was gone. Theo rested his forehead against the cool tile. "This valley was a sanctuary for escaped slaves, run by Fen'Harel," he told the others. "And the elven gods… weren't gods at all."

He didn't know how he'd known that, and was frustrated by the feeling of being two people at once: simultaneously Theo, and then whatever or whomever the mark was inside of him. They found more inscriptions, and at each one Theo felt a warm twinge in his hand and had the sense of walking between the present and the past. "The Evanuris weren't immortal," he murmured, tracing over another mosaic. "They just wanted power. They enslaved other elves."

"This is not what we know to be true," Dorian said, his fingertips lightly touching the tiles. They didn't seem to ripple or come to life the way they did when Theo did the same thing. "Yet another one of your gifts," he said with a half grin. "Uncovering the unsavory truths history has tried to sweep under the carpet."

"Like the Magisterium does?" Krem asked, leaning against a wall.

"Exactly," Dorian said, and Bull snorted. "History is far from a glorious thing, unless you're a Qunari, apparently."

Bull just shrugged. "We all have our skeletons," he said at last. "Some bloodier than others."

They found another Eluvian, this one with an active, swirling surface. Theo held his breath and held up his hand. The surface parted like water, showing a cracked stone road and high walls beyond. "I think we've found our fortress." He stepped through.

Unlike the Eluvians he'd used before, this one did not take them to the Crossroads, but directly to another destination. If they weren't careful, what Krem had posited could come true. It would be too easy to get lost.

This one took them out to the fortress they'd viewed from the lookout tower. The noise of battle drew his gaze, and he stared, mouth agape as a group of fully armed Qunari fought with more of the ancient elven guards. "If we ever get back, and if we have to come here again, Varric is coming with us," Theo said at last. "This shit is beyond weird."

"You got this, Chief?" Krem asked Bull. "My Qunlat's lousy."

"They probably already know I'm Tal-Vashoth, but why not," Bull said with a shrug. He waited until the ghosts evaporated and then called out a Qunlat greeting. A half dozen Qunari turned to face them. They called out something else in Qunlat and adjusted their grips on their weapons.

Krem drew his sword. "My Qunlat isn't _that_ lousy," he muttered. "This is going to be a messier fight than the last one."

The six warriors charged. Theo nocked and fired arrows as fast as he could. Dorian let loose a lightning storm overhead as Bull charged in, swinging his maul. Krem followed, then flanked to the right and slammed into a Qunari with his shield. They were all outnumbered, but not out-powered. That came as they advanced into the fortress and more warriors came after them. Bull swung his maul, taking out two Qunari, but two more were there. Theo tried to take out the spear throwers, until they turned their attention on him and he had to duck behind a pillar. He heard Dorian cry out; heard Krem yell at him to take cover. Heard Bull swearing in common and in Qunlat. Heard his hand crackling once more.

Theo rolled out from hiding and channeled all of his fear and anger and uncertainty into the mark. He held his hand aloft and the air split open, tendrils of green light hungrily licking at their enemies. He stared into the swirling light. He let himself feel the power leaving him, and then dropped his arm and fell back, starting at the frescoed ceiling.

He hated using the mark that way. But he felt better: less buzzing, less pent up energy. He sat up to see Bull, Krem, and Dorian staring at him. A gash ran across Bull's chest; Krem's breastplate had a few new dings to it, and Dorian leaned on his staff. "I take it your Qunlat's pretty lousy too?" he asked Bull.

The Bull didn't smile. "I know we never made the deal with the Antaam when we had the chance, and I know I'm Tal-Vashoth. They're right to want to kill me. But other Inquisition representatives? Especially the Inquisitor himself? Could be a rogue group." But for the first time since Theo had met him, Bull sounded uncertain when speaking about the Qunari.

Theo stood up. "It seems quiet now. Let's see what else we can find," he suggested.

"And then?" Krem asked.

"We get back to Halamshiral and hope that our dead foot soldier was an isolated incident." But he knew it was foolish to wish for. Nothing he did could ever be simple.

They explored the sanctuary area. The frescoes painted on the walls were still intact and still relatively bright, and enhanced with decorative mosaic tiles. Theo's hand pulsed gently and he saw the pictures not as just elves with their vallaslin, or blood writing marks. He saw slaves, marked as property of certain Evanuris, and the wolf-pelt-cloaked trickster Fen'Harel removing the markings. The marks of pride worn by so many Dalish, truly marks of servitude and ownership? Had the Creators been little better than the Tevinter Magisters? He gazed up at the flat stare of the marble wolf statue in the center of the room. "Why are we here, Fen'Harel?" he murmured, but the statue merely stared ahead as it had for centuries, perhaps millennia.

Bull found a stairwell leading down into a dank barracks that, unlike the sanctuary above, had been used for its intended purpose recently. Pieces of Qunari armor littered the floors. A glowing Eluvian, through which they could see glimpses of the Crossroads beyond, stood against one wall. Papers with hasty scrawl were strewn across a desk. Bull skimmed over the Qunlat writing, though some was in the common tongue.

"Bad?" Dorian asked as Theo paced around the barracks.

"Shitty," Bull said. He looked up at Theo as he tucked the letters into his leather side pouch. "We need to get back to Halamshiral. Now. Before the Qunari do."

Theo stopped his pacing and stared at his hand. He stood, rooted to the spot, just staring and unable to think or comprehend what Bull had said. He stood there until Dorian folded him into a tight hug and held him, and then they stood there until Bull and Krem gently nudged them both toward the Eluvian.


	16. Trespasser

Theo remembered the future. He'd seen a green sky and hunks of red lyrium growing out of a shattered earth. He'd fought off the Venatori and the red templars, and eventually defeated Corypheus. There had always been a sense of urgency to the ordeal: defeat Corypheus before he defeated them. But it wasn't like this. Theo stumbled through the Crossroads in a daze, expecting to meet a Qunari army on the march at every turn they took. They emerged into the store room in Halamshiral and he listened for the sounds of a battle in progress, and when he heard nothing he thought they were too late; the thought did not leave his mind until he was sitting in his room with his advisors, Bull, Krem, Varric, Cassandra, and Dorian.

"Qunari, in Halamshiral?" Cullen asked, brow furrowed deeply. "We've had no disturbances."

"The body of our friend has been… dealt with," Leliana said. "The palace has been scoured. That is the only Eluvian on the grounds, which begs the question why he was the only one to come through."

"These documents mention Agents of Fen'Harel," Bull said, pulling out what he'd salvaged. "These Qunari, they want to come through, but whoever these agents are, they're making it tough. It's pretty impressive, really."

"The Elven trickster god is stymying a Qunari army? Why didn't the Imperium think to hire him first?" Dorian asked. He sat next to Theo on a too-delicate settee, resting his hand on Theo's thigh. "It does explain why they attacked us on sight, without giving us a chance to explain anything."

Silence descended over them like a thick blanket. "Whatever was in those elven ruins is making my mark flare up worse than ever," Theo said at last. He tore his gaze away from his hand. "I need to stop this."

"The Exalted Council will not be pleased," Cassandra said, leaning against the wall. She'd shed her vestments on the bed and wore a simple tunic and skirt. Her boots, though, were the broken in, scuffed pair she normally wore.

"They can be dead," Theo offered as an alternative. He ran his hand through his hair and leaned back on the settee.

"We can't take on a Qunari army without any warning," Cullen said.

"I don't intend to." Theo clenched his hand and sat up straighter, looking around. "I go after them. Find out what they're up to, find out if we do need an army, and what Fen'Harel has to do with any of this." _What he has to do with my mark._ "If I come back, then we make a plan. If I don't, the Council gets what it wants."

"That isn't true," Josephine objected.

"It is. Teagan wants the Inquisition gone; Cyril wants to control us, and I'd rather disband the Inquisition before I let him get his hands on it. This is what needs to be done." He stood. "I'm going back through the mirror."

"And you're an idiot if you think you're going alone," Dorian snapped.

Theo sighed. He knew better than to think his husband would let him do something so foolish, but also knew better than to argue with Dorian. In the end Bull and Varric agreed to join them. Cassandra and Josephine worked out a plan to appease the Council for a little longer; Cullen, Leliana, and Krem broke off to discuss security and gathering information. Theo ran things through his head: Empress Celene had remained in Val Royeaux. King Alistair was still in Denerim. He looked around the room and his heart leapt further up into his throat.

"Cassandra…" he began. Everyone looked at him. "You've kept up with your swordsmanship skills?"

"Of course. I'm not an idiot," she snapped, though she was grinning.

"You should probably come with me," he said. "I don't think Thedas can handle having to name a new Divine again, in such a short span, if this Qunari thing comes to fruition."

The weight of his words settled over everyone. "Blessed Andraste," Josephine whispered, sinking back onto a chair.

"I'll stay and help Ruffles and Nightingale," Varric volunteered. "I'm a shitty politician, but I can be entertaining and distracting."

So an hour later, after forcing himself to eat something, Theo and his small party stood before the Eluvian once more. Cullen had placed a guard on the mirror, who saluted as Theo stepped through into the Crossroads again. He'd wondered how he'd know which mirror to choose, but didn't have to think for long. He caught sight of one last Qunari disappearing through a mirror just down the stone steps before them.

"Know where this one goes, Boss?" Bull asked, and Theo shook his head. "Shit. That's what I was afraid of." But he still followed as Theo headed toward the Eluvian.

He didn't know what to expect, since the last time the mirror had taken him to lost elven ruins. This Eluvian did not disappoint. He stepped over the bottom of the mirror frame and into the stone and darkness of the Deep Roads.

"This is cheerful," he remarked when Bull, Cassandra, and Dorian joined him. He looked around and tried not to think of the weight of the rock overhead, or where they might even be. The Deep Roads stretched thousands of miles all over Thedas, and the Eluvians and the Crossroads were not straight paths. They could be right under Halamshiral right now, or they could be beneath Ferelden or even the Free Marches. There was no way of knowing. All they could do was remember the way back to the Eluvian if they had to make an escape.

"Qunari in the Deep Roads?" Cassandra asked, her voice soft. She was dressed in resplendent golden armor that looked ceremonial, though she assured everyone that she'd made sure it was fully functional. She had her shield at the ready.

"I'm as confused as you, Seeker," Bull told her. "But Qunari are practical bastards. If we can use it, we do. That's why it's not uncommon to see Viddathari: human or elf converts to the Qun. They find some sort of peace or purpose, we find a resource. Everyone wins."

They pressed forward, Theo taking point as the stealthiest of the group. Torches had been wedged into crevices in the walls, lighting the way and casting strange shadows in the gloom. His heart pounded and his hand throbbed. He paused at an overlook. "Sentries," he whispered. He squinted, but it was hard to see too far in the dim light. "And… is that mining equipment?" Dorian settled next to him and scanned the area as well before nodding.

"Iron Bull," Dorian asked as they moved on. "I'm not about to get into an argument about the brutish way you treat your mages. But you don't have anything quite like templars, do you?"

"The Arvaarad holds the leash," Bull told him. "But they don't disrupt magic they way southern templars do."

"Then why do I sense some of that lovely southern hospitality nearby?" Dorian asked.

Bull opened his mouth with a quick retort, but Cassandra stopped him. "I feel it too. There is a templar nearby." She took the lead this time, sword poised to strike and shield tucked close to her body. She stopped by a mining shelter built into the rock. "This is a lyrium mine," she said suddenly, looking around.

"And you're a trespasser."

Cassandra brandished her sword and Theo nocked an arrow. Next to him, Dorian held a flickering ball of flame in his hand as a pale, gaunt man emerged from the shadows. His head was shaved, and his cheeks hollow. "Tell me what you mean, templar," she spat.

The man put up both his hands, palms out, to show he was weaponless. "Of course, your Perfection," he said with an ironic grin that quickly faded.

"Explain yourself before I run you through with my sword," Cassandra snarled.

"You'll do it anyway," he said. He ushered them into his mining shelter. He sat on an overturned crate and prodded the ashes of a dead fire with an iron poker. "I'm Jerran. A Viddathari," he explained. "Joined the Qun when shit went pear-shaped with the Chantry just after Kirkwall. Thought they… you had it right all along," he said with a nod to Bull. "I needed the purpose. I needed to master lyrium withdrawal without being around temptation. The Qun helped with that, and then the Breach happened. Let's just say, the Qun's response to it is leaving me feeling a little disillusioned."

"So you're helping us?" Theo asked. "And what did you mean, we're trespassers?"

"And who's giving the orders?" Bull interjected.

The templar sighed. "My life's forfeit no matter what I do. May as well go down fighting. You're trespassing in the Viddasala's lyrium mine."

Bull kicked a rock pile and swore in Qunlat. "If you know something, we should probably hear it," Cassandra told him.

"Senior Ben-Hassrath agent in charge of stopping dangerous magic. If she wants lyrium so badly she's mining it, we're beyond fucked," Bull growled.

"Again, it's not my place to question the Qunari treatment of mages," Dorian said, and Bull wheeled around and stared him down. "But if your _dangerous things_ are kept chained and leashed, why would this Viddasala need lyrium?"

Jerran stood and went to the door. He stared out into the gloom. "You're a dangerous man, Inquisitor," he began and Theo sighed. Not this shit again. "Your mark is magic no one understands. The Viddasala studies dangerous magic to learn how to best destroy it. That's why she took on an ex-templar Viddathari. You're too dangerous to live, if you ask her."

Theo sunk down onto another overturned crate. His whole life he'd wanted to be _somebody_. He'd wanted a purpose. He'd wanted an identity apart from the Chantry, and moreover, apart from being seen as the accidental, surprise youngest child. He'd achieved all that as the Inquisitor. But now he was somebody else: a threat to Ferelden freedom, a threat to Orlesian imperialism, and a threat to the Qunari fear of magic. He was dangerous. Too dangerous to live. "If I let her kill me that solves a lot of issues for everyone," he said at last.

This time it was Dorian who slapped him. Theo tumbled off the crate. "Stop that," Dorian snapped, staring down at Theo, his expression a mix of concern and anger. "It may solve some issues, but would create more. Namely for me. So stop talking like that, and let's form a strategy for dealing with this Viddasala, shall we?" Dorian kept his voice steady, but Theo could detect the forced sound to it, and didn't miss the gleam in his pale eyes.

The things Jerran told them made the future of Thedas seem even bleaker than it had looked under the threat of Corypheus. Fresh-mined lyrium for a contingent of Sarebaas? Barrels of Qunari gaatlok powder that only needed to be primed and detonated beneath palaces throughout Thedas? And worst of all, the mysterious Dragon's Breath plot? It was the Qunari's version of an Exalted March, and it would start with the Exalted Council and the Inquisition.

Theo got to his feet. "We're ending this. Now," he said.

"What about him?" Bull asked, staring Jerran down with his eye. "We leave him, he runs off and tells the Viddasala we're on the way."

Jerran didn't beg for his life. "At least if you kill me now I died in service of the Inquisition and the Divine," he added with a bow to Cassandra.

Bull stepped forward, hefting his axe, but Theo stopped him. "Thank you, Jerran. May the Maker watch over you," he said, and before Jerran could reply one of Theo's arrows sprouted from his throat. He avoided looking at Cassandra, Bull, or Dorian. He avoided looking inward at himself. He had to tell himself that he'd done Jerran a favor. That he'd really been protecting him from a worse death at the Viddasala's hands, and not that he was protecting himself from betrayal. If he came through this, he had to be able to live with himself.

"So," he said grimly, "Who gets to tell Cullen and Josephine we're probably at war with the Qunari?" he asked as they headed into the mine. No one answered. He sighed. "They're going to kill me."


	17. Dangerous Things

"You didn't have to kill him."

"I'm not having this conversation right now, Dorian," Theo said, wincing as he hauled himself up the rocky incline toward the Eluvian that would lead them back to the Winter Palace. All the things they'd seen and fought through in the Maker-damned Deep Roads, and Dorian was going to harp on him for killing Jerran?

"He renounced the Qun. He was helping us!"

Theo paused. He nodded for Bull and Cassandra to go on ahead through. He crossed his arms over his chest. "I've… been responsible for a lot of deaths since becoming Inquisitor," he said finally. "And I'm trying to be responsible for saving even more lives. So what's this about?"

Dorian glared at him. "You don't get to hide behind your stoicism, _Inquisitor_ ," he said. Then his face softened. "You're letting this destroy you. I can't stand by and let that happen, not when you're the man I love." Theo clenched his jaw and swallowed against the sudden lump growing in his throat. "If we dispose of those who've done no wrong, of those who are no longer of use to us, then what makes us better than the Viddasala?"

They hadn't even met the Viddasala yet. He'd faced several burly Qunari fighters and a couple of powerful Saarebas mages. Theo was pretty sure that his spleen was on the other side of his body after taking a hit from a maul that sent him flying across the dwarven ruins. He'd have a nasty bruise, even after downing a healing potion or two, and seeing a healer mage before heading back out. But they'd disrupted her mining operations, and that's what mattered.

"He was dead anyway," Theo finally said. "Maker's balls, Dor, I can't keep living like this." His hand burned and the mark flared and he bit back a yelp of pain. "I don't want to be like her, whoever she is. I don't want to rule over all of Thedas. I don't even fucking care if everyone hates me anymore."

"Everyone?"

"I care if you hate me," Theo said with a sigh. "But Teagan? Cyril? I should just let this Qunari thing happen and let them sort it out."

"Yes, you should," Dorian said, pulling him closer and holding him. "But you won't. Because you can't stand by when there's a threat to the world. It's not in your nature, and it's one of many things I love you for. I just want you to remember who you are, for me; but mostly for yourself."

"I don't deserve you."

"No, probably not," Dorian said with a grin, lightly kissing him. "You need to be seen by someone. We'll regroup."

The Deep Roads had no way for him to know how much time had passed, and even the hazy sunlight of the Crossroads didn't seem to change to mark passing hours. When they emerged in the Winter Palace he looked to the windows. It was dark, and Leliana, who greeted them, confirmed that it was the middle of the night. "The Council agreed to recess for the time being," she said. "Josephine is sleeping; Maker knows she needs it. This has been… hard on her in a way neither of us expected. This may be one of the first times she's in over her head."

They headed back to Theo's chambers, using the secret passages so no nosey nobles could stop Theo and demand to know what was going on. But once there Leliana surprised him. "We'll figure out what to do at first light," she told him, and held up her hand when he tried to protest. "Cullen has the mirror under guard. We have our people securing the Palace. You need to rest, or you will kill yourself."

Theo couldn't argue with her, and she made him a cup of tea as he peeled off his armor. The tea smelled of elfroot, and helped the aching in his side. "I'll send a healer in the morning," she told him, but he'd already fallen back against the bolsters and was drifting off to sleep.

He dreamed of ancient elves and of bright green light, of Magisters and Fade rifts and Qunari and Solas, of all people. When he woke to the pale sunrise he listened, but there were no sounds of invasion or battle. He was sore and tired, but knew it would have been worse if he hadn't slept.

Dorian was awake next to him. "Did you sleep at all?" Theo asked him.

"Some. As long as you did, though. You're going to run yourself ragged, and then what will I do with myself?" He smiled slightly, reaching out to brush Theo's hair out of his face.

"I'm disgusting after all the fighting," Theo told him, returning the smile. He took Dorian's hand and lightly kissed his fingertips.

"I'd rather have you disgusting and alive, than pristine and dead," Dorian told him. He pulled Theo into a hug. "Shh. Just let me hold you for a bit," he murmured when Theo tried to protest. "If the world is going to end, I don't want it to end without having taken advantage of a quiet moment together."

Theo made himself relax and focus on Dorian. Dorian was warm against him, the light buzzing of mana just palpable. Dorian's mustache tickled his ear, and he laced their fingers together and held tight. Their wedding bands clinked together and for a moment Theo was able to ignore the pulsing pain in his hand.

He'd just closed his eyes and was about to let the exhaustion wash over him once more when a sharp rap sounded on the door, and muffled voices could be heard in the hallway. He sighed and slipped out of Dorian's grip and headed to the door. "Probably just Cullen or a guard," he told Dorian, who nodded and snugged back under the blankets.

It was not, in fact, Cullen or an Inquisition guard, but Arl Teagan himself. "Oh Inquisitor, how rude of me to interrupt your beauty sleep!" he snarled in greeting.

Theo sighed and leaned on the doorframe. He looked down at his bare torso with the giant purple and green bruise spreading across his side and stomach. "Good morning to you too, Arl Teagan. And yes, this is a _fantastic_ look on me. Thank you for noticing." The only reason he was glad Josephine wasn't here right now was so she didn't have to have a bout of apoplexy in front of the Fereldan emissary. "How may I help you today, your Grace?" he asked. He kept leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed over his bare chest. Teagan could intimidate him all he wanted, but the man was _not_ coming into his rooms. There had to be _some_ boundaries.

Teagan's face was deep red, almost purple. "It's bad enough that no one thought to tell the Council about the dead Qunari warrior." Theo's heart jumped and he clenched his jaw to keep himself from speaking and revealing anything. "And now Inquisition forces are detaining Orlesian servants!"

"Goodness, Arl Teagan, I never thought we'd see the day you were concerned for the wellbeing of Orlais," Theo drawled. He flicked his gaze toward his windows but of course the heavy drapes were drawn. But he guessed from Teagan's dress that he'd slept far longer than he'd meant to.

"Oh dear, this is embarrassing," Duke Cyril said, appearing behind Teagan. "While I do appreciate your concern, your Grace, waking the Inquisitor may not have been prudent."

"We are of course very grateful that you thought to bring this to our attention," Josephine said, appearing behind Theo. "The Inquisitor and I were just meeting to discuss our strategy." She smiled pleasantly. Clever, how she'd used the hidden passages. "Fortunately I am accustomed to His Worship's states of dress," she added with a wink, and from somewhere deeper in the room, Dorian snorted. "As for our trespassing guest, I can assure you that we have been investigating for the safety of all gathered here; the last thing we wished is to cause a panic. And as for our servants' actions-"

"I shall see to it, with the Inquisitor personally accompanying me," Cullen broke in from where he was sitting, in a chair by the fireplace.

"See, Arl Teagan? We had it under control-apart from my staff giving me the opportunity to dress, of course," Theo said. "Now if you'll both excuse us-"

"That's your problem," Teagan told him, hand on the door. "You think you're the solution to every problem, and you need to be in control of everything. _This_ is why you're a danger to our world."

Theo sighed and closed the door. Any hope of a bath, no matter how quick, and a halfway decent breakfast was gone. He dug for a clean shirt, wincing at the pain in his side. That would have to wait, too. "Tell me everything that's happened since I fell asleep, and then take me to the altercation," he commanded as he worked to lace up his boots and find armor pieces. Most of the buckles were still crusted with dirt and dried gore. There had been no time to have his things serviced. Everything was on hold, something Teagan and Cyril couldn't understand. If only he still had Alexius's amulet, he and Dorian could stop time, fix this problem, and then move forward.

He followed Cullen out to the gardens while one of Leliana's spies handed him a waterskin and a hunk of bread to eat on the go. "Your Worship," an Inquisition servant said, bowing low. The Orlesian servant, elven, didn't. "I _only_ asked where he was going," she said, glaring at the elf next to her He had his arms crossed over his chest and a nasty sneer on his face.

"I was just doing my job," he snapped in retort. "Which was to deliver these wine kegs to the kitchens."

Theo looked at the wine kegs and felt the sour bile rising in his throat. "Let him go," he said quietly. Cullen looked at him but he just shook his head slightly. "He was just doing his job. I'm sorry, ser. We'll see that you aren't punished and that you are compensated for the inconvenience," he said. The elf looked at him suspiciously, before slinking off.

The kegs weren't kegs. They were barrels of gaatlok.

"Commander Cullen, see to it that the delivery is taken care of?" Theo asked. Cullen took a look at him and the expression on his face must have been awful, because Cullen didn't ask any questions. "I apologize for the inconvenience, Duke Cyril," he said as he turned back toward the palace. "We will see to it that the situation is dealt with."

"Of course you will," Cyril said. "I never doubted so."

Theo marched back toward his room. "Smile, Inquisitor, the world is watching," Leliana murmured as she slid up to his side like a shadow.

"I can't smile about this." He stalked the hallways, a thousand thoughts running through his mind.

"They don't have to know that," she said. "They want to watch you crack. Don't give them that satisfaction. I learned that the hard way as a Bard. And if it is any consolation, I gave the same advice to the Warden prior to her going before the Landsmeet to condemn General Loghain."

Theo finally managed to give a halfhearted grin. "That turned out well for her. I suppose you do give good advice. Then again you've been giving me good advice from day one."

"I don't want to lead you astray, Theodane. You've borne the weight of the world on your back for so long."

"Hopefully not for much longer," he said with a sigh as they entered his room.

Dorian was already dressed. Bull, Krem, Varric and Cassandra had joined them all, and were already armored up. Bull had managed to scout out the scene before Theo's arrival, and had found a note confirming the gaatlok was intended to destroy the palace-with the entire Exalted Council in it. "They destroy the palace, they destroy you and save the south. At least as far as the Qunari are concerned," he said. "Sorry boss. They don't know you like I do. To them, you're a dangerous thing that needs to be eliminated."

 _Maybe I am,_ Theo thought. He couldn't feel offended, not when his actions had had so many unintended consequences over the last few years.

The note Bull had found confirmed not only that the gaatlok was meant to destroy Halamshiral, but barrels were en route to Denerim, Kirkwall, and even other places in the Free Marches and Orlais. The attack was being coordinated by the Viddasala, who'd set up her staging ground beyond the Eluvians. "The Antaam can't have planned this," Bull said as they headed through the Crossroads. "And they definitely can't condone it. Viddasala's role is to study magical objects and destroy them, not go on some rogue crusade against them."

"Someone's going off their leash," Dorian observed. "Rather makes one question the definition of 'dangerous.'"

Cassandra led the way; Bull took the rear. They passed through yet another Eluvian, and emerged in the ruins of an elven library. Dorian drifted out of formation and stood before a floor to ceiling shelf. Torches burned from sconces on the walls, lighting up the bindings. "I can't read the text," he said. "These are that old." He brushed his fingertips over a spine and drew his hand back quickly. "The damned thing shocked me!" he exclaimed, glaring at the books as if personally offended.

"The ancient elves probably didn't want shemlen like us reading their texts," Cassandra said.

"The amount of knowledge here though…" Dorian said wistfully, fingertips resting on the shelves, just shy of the books. There were shelves upon shelves filled with books, all untouchable and unreadable. "All that's been lost…"

 _Much was lost to the world when the Veil came down._ The ghostly voice echoed in Theo's head and his hand throbbed in time with his heartbeat. _Free elves became slaves to the past. Knowledge became a dangerous thing when the faith of the flame took root._ Theo knocked his palm against the side of his head as if he could jostle out the voice. _The horned ones are looking for knowledge. They would use it to destroy what Fen'Harel began._

Fen'Harel again. What had he started, and how could the Qunari destroy it? What were they even aiming to destroy?

The librarians will protect our knowledge, but you must move ahead and stop the horned ones. We shall protect the knowledge; you protect your world. Prepare it for Fen'Harel.

"If I'm going to protect my world, it won't be as an unwitting agent of Fen'Harel," Theo stated, clenching his aching hand. Everyone looked at him, concerned, but he just shook his head. "Sorry. Hearing things. Elven magic and all," he added, attempting to sound lighthearted as he waved his hand about. He led them deeper into the library, with its torches that never burned low or smelled of pitch smoke, with its dusty books that would never be read.

They came upon the first group of Qunari a few rooms in. Theo took one sentry out with his arrows, and Dorian turned the second into a walking bomb that he detonated when the Qunari turned around and headed for them. Still more came out through an Eluvian, shouting in Qunlat. Cassandra and Bull dove into the fray, doing a dance of hacking and slashing. Theo fired whenever he got a clear shot while Dorian sent in his dark spirits.

One Qunari yelled something about Saarebas and two of them turned on Dorian. Saarebas: the Qunari word for mage. A dangerous thing. Dorian sent out a lightning spell, but they held their shields aloft and the lightning ricocheted off of them. "Help Dorian!" Theo shouted as the two bore down on the mage.

His hand sparked and the mark burned. Buzzing fire coursed down his arm and lit up his palm brighter than any beacon. He turned toward the two Qunari and let the glut of energy flow out of his hand. Green light filled the room, but rather than opening a Fade rift of his own, an explosion of light and energy erupted and threw him back against a wall. The burst of energy blew into the Qunari, searing the flesh from their bones. Theo closed his eyes as the energy burned off, subsiding into the dull ache he'd grown so used to over the years.

When he opened his eyes Dorian was shaking him and Bull and Cassandra were standing over him, concern written on their faces. "You passed out," Dorian told him, holding Theo close to him and brushing his hair off his clammy forehead.

Theo breathed in the scent of Dorian: soft, worn leather, light spice, sweat, and flame. He rested his cheek on Dorian's chest and shook out his hand. "I'm alright now," he said, taking a deep breath and pushing away from Dorian. He shook a little as he got to his feet, but smiled slightly. "Let's find the Viddasala and find out what she wants," he said decisively.

Cassandra and Bull looked doubtful, but Theo slung his bow back over his shoulder and headed for the nearest Eluvian. He didn't look back; he trusted they would follow, but if they didn't he also wouldn't be surprised. The Qunari had called Dorian the saarebas, but Theo had a feeling they'd been referring to him.

They navigated through the shelves and stacks and crumbling pathways,passing the echos of spirits of study and knowledge. Whispers of the past flitted through his mind. Thoughts of a time that had until just now been myth flashed in his head. He held up his hand before another Eluvian, and the glass parted like ripples in a pond.

He stepped through and into the middle of a Qunari camp. Immediately a dozen Qunari spears were trained on him, and Theo held his hands up. "I'm no agent of Fen'Harel," he announced, and his hand sparked violently. The warriors all glared at him, but there was no spite or malice: just calm purpose, waiting for orders.

"Inquisitor."

He looked up to a landing where another Eluvian stood, and before it, a stately Qunari. "The Viddasala, I presume," Theo said with a slight bow, but never taking his eyes off of her. The senior Ben-Hassrath agent was tall and lean, but muscled. Her head was shaved, and a headdress made of carefully woven red rope looped around her horns. Similar intricate ropework bound a huge tome to her shoulder plate, and the hazy sun glittered off the gold accents on her armor. "I do not serve Fen'Harel; the elves' Dread Wolf does not work for the Inquisition, nor us for them," he repeated. "We can talk this through."

She didn't approach. Her sharp eyes flicked toward his glowing hand. "The time for talk never existed, Inquisitor. The Qun allowed you to live when the sky was opened because you had a purpose to serve. It should have ended after that."

Behind him he heard Bull, Cassandra, and Dorian step through the mirror, and the ring of warriors shifted their aim slightly. Theo heard Bull growl low in his throat. "Corypheus had a one-of-a-kind Elven artifact," he told her. His fingers itched to go for his bow, but the warriors surrounding them were poised to impale them if he did such a thing. "The Breach was sealed. It won't happen again; he was destroyed. I saw to it myself."

"Your word is not worthy," she snapped. "You were allowed to go free after your purpose was completed, and that was worrisome enough. That you were revered and celebrated for what you did after? That is a travesty the entirety of the South must pay for."

Theo dropped his gaze to his hand. The energy was pulsing up and down his entire arm once more as he worked to process all the Viddasala had just said. Then he started laughing. It echoed off the stones and cut through the silence of the library.

It wasn't the response the Viddasala had wanted, or expected. She sneered. "Kill him. Then cut off the hand and bring it to the Darvaarad." She turned and the large, heavily bound Qunari mage-Saarebas-standing next to her followed her through the Eluvian. The remaining warriors hefted their spears with one hand, and placed the other upon sword hilts.

Theo couldn't stop laughing at the irony of what she'd said. He felt the pulse of angry power flowing through his entire body and down his arm. He held his hand up, glowing blindingly bright. "You heard the Viddasala," he called to the warriors. "Cut it off!" he cried.

Behind him, Dorian shouted. Bull and Cassandra let out battle cries. But the Qunari warriors didn't get the chance to strike as a blast of searing green energy disintegrated them.

Then the light faded and there was silence.

"That's one way to handle it, Boss," Bull said at long last. "Gotta give you credit for having the balls to laugh at the Viddasala," he added. "Are we going to follow her?"

He didn't know if he was just too tired, or if he'd finally come completely unhinged; either way, Theo couldn't make a decision. Every time he tried to say something the words eluded him. At last Cassandra suggested heading back so they could plan how to dismantle the Dragon's Breath plot, and to better prepare should they meet with the agent of Fen'Harel. Theo agreed and let her lead them. The library was quiet, and they were safe, for now. Safe, until his mark decided they were the enemy, safe until the Qunari went through them to get to him.


	18. Marked

" _You_ hid the Qunari body!" Josephine snapped at Leliana, slamming her quill on the writing desk.

"You would have had me leave it out to panic the Council before we knew what we were dealing with?" Leliana snapped back.

"Don't pin this on her," Cullen interjected. "It's not her fault-"

"Oh don't worry," Josephine said, her voice shaking with rage. "I'm blaming you too!"

"Me?"

"Your guards have all but locked down the palace! They stand in the doorways intimidating the nobles! They do not have that level of jurisdiction here, and to pretend they do-"

"I'm trying to keep us _SAFE_!" Cullen bellowed.

Theo laughed, his shoulders shaking as near-hysterical giggles cut through the tension. He turned away from the window he'd been staring out to see everyone watching him: his advisors, angry that he would treat this with such levity; Varric and Cassandra, confused that the Inquisitor was laughing at his advisors' concerns; Bull, grim and otherwise impassive, and only Dorian looking concerned.

"I'm not entirely sure how you can find this humorous," Cullen said, eyes narrowed.

"I wouldn't-" Dorian began, wrapping an arm around Theo's shoulders.

Theo pulled away from Dorian. "We save Ferelden and they're angry with us. We save Orlais and they're angry with us." He paced like a caged wolf. "We close the breach. Twice! We defeat Corypheus!" Cullen looked to the floor. Josephine bit her bottom lip and picked at a spot on her ruffled sleeve. "And now the Council wants to dismantle us, the Qunari want to invade us…" He stopped and gasped in pain as his mark audibly crackled and sparked bright green. "And my hand wants to kill me. By the way." His breathing came in shallow gasps and a thin film of cool sweat broke out on his forehead. "Can't one _fucking thing_ in this world stay fixed?" He clenched his throbbing, burning hand into a fist, pulled back, and slammed it into the marble wall.

The crunching pain in his knuckles never came. Instead the mark formed a protective shield around him, and where there should have been blood and smooth marble, a good chunk of the wall looked as if a giant had heaved a boulder into it.

Theo's legs gave out and he crumpled to the floor. He didn't want to do this anymore. Let the Qunari come and destroy them. Let Orlais and Ferelden fight back against the Dragon's Breath without him. Let southern Thedas solve its own problems. Let the agent of Fen'Harel deal with the Viddasala.

But even as he thought it he knew he couldn't. It just wasn't in him to back down from a fight, not while he still had something left to give, even if it wasn't much at this point. His entire body trembled with exhaustion and his mind was cracking from the strain of politics and intrigue.

A timid knock sounded at the door, and Leliana hurried to answer it. She whispered with the other person for a moment before coming in and locking the door behind her. "The elven servant we detained earlier has gone missing, along with a few others," she said. "And they confirmed gaatlok is indeed in the locations we thought."

"Evacuate the palace," Bull said, and Theo was grateful for his friend's calm decisiveness. "If anyone wants to stay behind, I'd say let them, but… ah fuck it, tell the Chargers, and Krem and the boys will help."

"I will inform the council," Josephine said after drawing a shaky breath.

Leliana shook her head. "No. I will do it. You've borne enough of the burden, Josie." She lightly touched Josephine's cheek and a sad smile touched her lips.

"We will do it together," Josephine said, resting her hand on Leliana's arm.

"I will organize our guards with those of the palace," Cullen announced, following them out and leaving Theo with Dorian, Cassandra, Bull, and Varric.

Once the door closed, Theo took a moment to savor the silence. Or as silent as it could get, with his pulse thudding in his ears and his hand crackling and buzzing audibly no matter how hard he squeezed his fingers closed, or pressed it into his torso. He sighed and got to his feet.

"Where do you think you're going, Boss?" Bull asked, watching carefully with his one eye.

"Back." Theo waved his hand aimlessly. "To the damned mirror. To this Darvaarad place." Theo headed for the door, but Bull stood in front of it. "Move, Bull."

"Nope." Bull leaned against the door. There was no moving him, even if Theo didn't feel half dead from fatigue. He looked across the room toward the secret passage entrance, but Cassandra stood there, holding out her shield and giving him a friendly grin, begging him to challenge her.

"Don't look at me," Varric said with a shrug. "I'm not crossing the Seeker again, and Tiny's three times my size."

"And you know better than to fight me, _Amatus_ ," Dorian said softly. He took Theo's other hand and steered him toward the settee. "You need a plan, and we are going to help you make one. One that doesn't involve you running into this alone and getting yourself killed," Dorian added. He sat down on the settee and pulled Theo down as well, forcing him to lie down with his head in Dorian's lap.

Theo closed his eyes, but then opened them again and stared at the ceiling. Every time he tried to close his eyes for longer than it took to blink, he saw a level of destruction that he was powerless to stop, but still had to nonetheless.

Dorian's hand was cool on his forehead, and he suspected a bit of ice magic at work, but it felt good. It was too hot in here, or maybe it was his layers of clothing and armor.

Eventually Cassandra had to slip away, as the Council would need her. "When you go through the mirror, I want to go too," she said.

Theo shook his head. "Not this time. They're going to need you. We'll get everyone out of here, so if I… Um… if things don't go well, they're safe and you're safe and can guide them. They'll need you, Cassandra," he said. He felt the searing pain roll down his arm again and clenched his hand as tightly as he could. He tried to breathe slowly and deeply and gazed up into Dorian's worried grey eyes to calm himself.

"As you wish, Inquisitor," Cassandra said. But she first strode across the room and knelt next to him. "Whatever happens, you have done well. You have done more for our world and borne a heavier burden than anyone I have ever known. I am… glad to call you friend and to have served at your side," she said, taking his unmarked hand and squeezing it.

Theo managed to sit up. "Cassandra… Your Perfection… are you _crying_?" he asked incredulously, and she frowned.

"Ugh. You're hopeless," she snapped, and got up, but she did manage to smile before she left.

"Maker's balls, how terrible do I look?" Theo asked, leaning against Dorian. "Cassandra was getting teary eyed. Cassandra doesn't do tears. Maybe I really am dying," he mused.

"You do look pretty shitty," Bull confirmed, and he wasn't smiling. "I'm going to the Darvaarad with you."

"But the Chargers-"

"Krem knows my contacts and he can take over if he needs to. Besides, you don't read or speak Qunlat, so you'll be completely fucked there without me," Bull pointed out. "Where we're going, having inside knowledge _might_ keep you from getting killed."

Theo nodded. He wished Bull didn't talk like that: like dying was a very real possibility, like Bull had prepared for the very worst and accepted it. But Bull, contrary to his name, didn't bullshit. And somehow, the way he accepted the reality of all of this helped Theo focus better.

"Bull's told me about this place," Varric said. "You'll need the best I've got: traps, lock picks, you name it. And don't give me any crap about Kirkwall needing me," he said when he saw Theo's face. "I keep asking myself what I ever did to deserve being Viscount of that place. Besides, I think my Seneschal is taking bets on me dying here, so if I survive, I could become even richer," he said with a grin.

Varric and Bull left to make preparations. When the door clicked closed, Dorian wove a privacy web around the room. "Let it go, Amatus," Dorian told him. "Whatever you're feeling or thinking, just let it out now."

"I'm…" Theo began, but Dorian leveled his gaze at him and there was no point lying. He was terrified: not just of the Qunari threat, because that was something he could see. The mark on his hand had always been a curiosity and a little bit ominous. It had saved him on a few occasions but he only had to glance at the cracked wall to realize that it protected itself. It really was trying to kill him. And the longer he went, the worse it hurt, the more he realized it was going to succeed.

He grabbed Dorian and held him, burying his face in Dorian's shoulder. He inhaled the scent of vanilla and spice that always seemed to cling to his husband. Dorian held Theo close, rubbing his back and his shaking shoulders. Theo sniffed and blinked at the moist heat behind his eyes. "Whatever happens, I wouldn't trade the time we've had," he whispered.

Dorian shifted his hold and met his eyes. Dorian's own eyes were glassy and his face a bit pale. He rested a hand on Theo's cheek. "I knew you'd break my heart, you bloody bastard," he said with a smile, but his lip twitched and his voice caught in his throat. He pulled Theo into a kiss: gentle, sweet, loving.

Theo closed his eyes and let Dorian's mana flow into him through the kiss. The last year and a half he'd spent chasing dragons and ghosts and any challenge that presented itself, trying to prove that he was enough, when all along he had been. From the very start he'd been enough for Dorian. He hadn't needed fancy gestures or trophies or titles; just being Theo Trevelyan was all Dorian had ever asked of him. Dorian had seen through the glitz and glamour of the Inquisitor. He'd seen Theo at his very worst and stayed. Dorian loved him no matter what he did, and now it was nearly too late.

"Do you think I'm going to die?" Theo asked him quietly, resting his head against Dorian's chest.

Dorian carded his fingers through Theo's sweaty hair. "I think if anyone has the chance of outwitting certain death, it would be you."

Theo bit his lip and swallowed against the rush of emotion that lodged itself in his throat like a ball made up of rusty metal shards. "I love you. Only you. Always," he croaked out, voice muffled by Dorian's robes. "No matter what."

Dorian took a deep breath; Theo heard the way the air hitched as it went down into his lungs. "Stop that," Dorian told him. "I'm not saying goodbye. No matter what."

Theo exhaled slowly and gathered his thoughts. His hand pulsed green light in time with his heartbeat. "Thank you, Dorian," he said as he stood and began to get his armor back on. "I couldn't do any of this without you."

"I know," Dorian told him with a grin as he too rose and began adjusting the buckles and clasps of his armor. "When this is over we should take a proper honeymoon. Somewhere no one will ever bother us."

"We could try one of those Eluvians," Theo suggested.

Dorian narrowed his eyes. "Maybe a few people should be able to bother us," he said, making Theo chuckle slightly as he picked up his bow and his quiver, and they headed for the Eluvian in the storeroom one last time.


	19. Dragon's Breath

After the stuffiness of the Winter Palace and the quiet heaviness of the Crossroads, the night air of the Darvaarad felt, ironically, pleasant.  A few stars winked overhead in a rich blue sky.  The moon was rising in the east, and a warm breeze, scented with beach roses, wafted over the battlements.  In some strange way the coastal air reminded Theo of Ostwick.  Perhaps he and Dorian could spend some time in Ostwick after this, if he-- no. _When_ it was over.  Theo had to keep believing he could make it through this.  Like Dorian said, if anyone could triumph over the odds of certain death, again, it was Theo Trevelyan.

Theo stared across the battlements at the dark towers.  “Anyone know where we are?” he whispered.  They could be anywhere in Thedas, a thought that made Theo even queasier.  

The Iron Bull took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders; he was actually smiling.  “Didn’t think I’d ever get back to Par Vollen,” he said, sounding slightly wistful.  “They say that home is wherever you are, because so long as you’re under the Qun, you’re connected to the rest of the Qunari.  But damn, if I didn’t miss the smell of beach roses and spindleweed.”

Par Vollen: the Qunari homeland.  So strange that the enemy’s land should remind Theo so much of his own home.  But it also meant that they were thousands of miles from anyone they knew, and he had given strict instructions that Cullen was not to send reinforcements.  This was something that had to be done on a small scale, quick and quiet, and it had to succeed no matter the cost.  His hand burned underneath his gloves and his arm ached as the energy slowly built up.

Varric peered through a small spyglass.  “Regular patrols on the main walkway.  We should be able to make it close and then try to take them out, so long as we’re quick and quiet.  Luckily, I’m good at that,” he said with a grin, pulling back the flap of his coat to reveal an assortment of vials and bombs.

They sneaked across the walkway.  Theo didn’t know if he was sweating from fear and anxiety, or from the heat and humidity of the night.  A muffled roar sounded from far away, but the patrolling Qunari didn’t seem startled by it.  When they closed in, Dorian waved his hand toward one of the guards.  The guard paused and shook his head then kept going.  Theo glanced over at Dorian, who put a finger to his lips and shook his head.

They waited.  When the guard was joined by two others, Dorian waved his hand once more.

The guard exploded: blood, sinew, limbs flying up into the night.  Before the other two guards could react, Varric threw out a bomb that released a thick greenish gas, and Dorian cast a barrier around them.  Bull raised his eyebrow.  “ _Saar-qamek?”_

“How many times do I have to remind people I was in Kirkwall during the Qunari uprising?” Varric asked with a sigh.  He unsheathed his knife.  “We should move.”

They dispatched the guards and slipped into an unlocked side door.  “This room is strangely full of magic for a Qunari compound,” Dorian commented.  “Even one devoted to studying magical artifacts.”  Dorian quickly found the bookshelves and started looking over the titles.  “Nothing from that ancient elven library, thankfully,” he said, pulling down a tome.  “I don’t think I could live with myself if the Qunari got their hands on one of those books and I couldn’t.”

“Hey boss, this guy look familiar?” Bull called from another corner.  Theo joined him and stared at a chunk of wall the Qunari had brought back from the elven ruins.  “Self-portrait of Fen’Harel,” Bull translated.  

Theo looked over the fresco, which had survived the many centuries, or even millennia, with minimal damage: a slight chip here, a bit of a fade there.  The portrait was of a bald elf with a long, straight nose and grayish eyes holding a staff, and wearing a necklace made of a wolf’s jawbone.

“Solas,” Theo said.  “It looks just like him; but what are the odds?”

Dorian joined them; he held a sheaf of papers.  A small light sprung out of his fingertips and he examined the portrait.  “I will say, the resemblance in uncanny. But look what I found.  The calculations are complex, but they’re correct.  They’re examining theoretical magic on a level the Imperium barely acknowledges!”  His mustache quivered with excitement.  He met Theo’s eyes.  “With this knowledge we could build a working Eluvian!”

“No.” Bull gently took the papers from Dorian’s hand.  “I want to put an end to this shit, not start more.”

“But--”

“Nope.”

They both knew better than to look to Theo to moderate this, and in the end Dorian sighed. “It could put an end to some problems,” he murmured.

“And start more,” Varric chimed in.

Theo pinched the bridge of his nose with his right hand and shook out his left as if that could ease the buzzing and tingling.  He heard the faraway roar cut through the night once more.  As curious as he was about the magical artifacts the Viddasala’s people were collecting, he had a conspiracy to stop and a country or two to save.

They made their way back across the courtyard and to the gatehouse where Bull worked the intricate lock system to open the doors of the Darvaarad.  Theo’s mark began to pulse, building to a fever pitch as they entered the barracks.  The bright green flashes made their arrival obvious, and the pain made it hard for him to move forward.  A contingent of Qunari guards ran in from a side door just as Theo fell to one knee and his mark exploded with hot green light.  He closed his eyes and let the power flow through him, praying that Dorian and the others had found cover.  

Eventually the roar in his ears faded and his hand was left tingling. Theo managed to open his eyes and immediately turned his head to the side and threw up.  The air smelled of singed flesh and hair.  Charred pieces of bone littered the floor and blood spattered the walls.  He glanced down at his hand and nearly vomited again.  His glove was in tatters where the energy had burned through it.  The mark was a bright green slash across his palm, as usual; but his fingertips glowed pale green, and light seemed to glow beneath his fingernails.  His hand was becoming the mark.  Or the mark was starting to eat his hand from the inside out.  

The roar sounded once more, closer.  “You don’t think the Qunari are really _that_ literal,” Varric asked suddenly, looking in the direction of the sound.  “I know you all like your metaphors and such, but…”

Bull shrugged.  “I wish I knew.  At this point Viddasala could be doing anything.  What she’s got planned can’t possibly be sanctioned.”

Theo sincerely hoped Bull was right as they made their way deeper into the Darvaarad, following the sound of the roar.  It sounded angry and pained, and Theo sympathized with whatever was making that noise.

They emerged in a large room stacked with the familiar gaatlok barrels.  He hoped Cullen had gotten the Winter Palace evacuated.  He hoped the places across the Free Marches had discovered the danger they were in, and that his parents’ estate in Ostwick hadn’t been targeted.  Who he was, what he was, was no fault of theirs.  A simple mistake had changed the course of his life; they didn’t deserve to be targeted by a Qunari plot just because they’d sired him.  He chuckled, drawing the confused looks of Bull, Varric, and Dorian.  “I was a mistake,” he said in a shaking voice.  “My family didn’t want a sixth child, let alone a son.  And then becoming Inquisitor… that was a mistake too.  And now everyone’s going to pay because of me.”

“Stop.”  Dorian took him by the shoulders and lightly patted his cheek to make Theo snap out of it.  “Look at me.  This is _not_ happening because of you.  This is happening because the Viddasala’s zealotry has gone too far.  I’ve watched you carry many mountains, _Amatus._  Many that you never had to, but did anyway.  I will not let you carry this one as well.”  He gathered Theo into a tight hug.  Theo felt some cooling magic seep through his armor and clothes, and a subtle magic nudge in his brain.  “He’s burning up,” Dorian murmured to Bull and Varric.  “Take a deep breath, love.  We need to stop this Dragon’s Breath.”

Theo breathed deep and focused once more.  He wiped the sweat out of his eyes and pushed his hair back.  He was indeed burning up, the fever his body’s reaction to fighting a disease it didn’t recognize.  All he had to do was keep his mind clear enough to end this.  Then he could rest.

They’d barely started to cross the chamber when the door opened and the Viddasala stood before them.  “I should have known you’d be too stubborn to stay away,” she told him, her eyes flashing angrily.

“I’m too stubborn to even die,” Theo snapped at her as he nocked an arrow.  “Of course I was coming after you.”  He drew his bow and let the arrow fly; but his left hand was almost numb with the magic from the mark, and the shot missed.  He swore; the mark would take even this from him?

Viddasala smiled.  “Hissrad, now is your chance to redeem yourself.  Kill them, and rejoin us.”

Theo’s heart skipped a beat as The Iron Bull looked between Viddasala and him with his one eye.  

Bull smiled.  “All due respect, ma’am, but not a chance.”  He hefted his axe in his hands and launched himself at the warriors who had come into the room at the Viddasala’s command.  Dorian and Varric launched spells and arrows and Theo chased after the Viddasala.  

He caught himself on a door frame.  “Dorian!  Bull!  Varric!  Get out of here!” he called as the feverish energy built up in his hand again.  They must have seen the brightening glow because even Bull kicked away a guard and joined Theo.  If this mark was going to do this to him, he was going to take advantage of it.  He didn’t try to hold back the surge this time.  Green flames licked the barrels of gaatlok and only too late did the warriors realize what was about to happen.

Bull yanked Theo out of the way and slammed the door as the first gaatlok barrel exploded.  More explosions sounded as they stumbled away from the door.  They kept running, crossing battlements and running up another set of stairs to another tower, far away from the burning, crumbling gaatlok storage room.  “Bitch,” Bull muttered, breathing heavily and staring at the flames rising from the section of the fortress they’d escaped.  “Even if I _had_ done what she asked, there was no way in the Void the Qunari would take me back.  Once Tal-Vashoth, always Tal-Vashoth.”  He swore in Qunlat.  “She’s gone too far.”

Another roar shook the stones beneath their feet and the light of bright flames shone through the crack between the double doors before them.  “You don’t think the Dragon’s Breath is actually…” Dorian’s voice trailed off as Bull pushed through the doors.

“ _Ataashi,_ ” Bull breathed, staring in reverence at the immense dragon that had been stuffed into the decidedly not dragon-sized chamber.  The room smelled of dragon dung and burning.

Theo’s first view of a dragon had been one flying over the deserts of the Western Approach just a few months into his career as the Inquisitor.  He’d fought Corypheus’s red lyrium dragon, and had killed Hakkon.  All three of those dragons had been majestic, legends brought to life.  But _Ataashi_ , as Bull had called the dragon, was nothing of the sort.  Its wings were slightly tattered.  Qunari ropework restrained its jaws so it couldn’t open its mouth fully.  More ropes dug into its legs, and sores had formed in the scaly skin.  

 _Ataashi_ was pitiful.

It wheeled around and stared at Theo with its rheumy yellow eyes, smoke curling from its nostrils.

A portcullis let in the night air and prevented the dragon’s escape.  Theo didn’t doubt it could snap its bonds easily, if it only had enough room to move about.  

Several soldiers were amassing just outside the portcullis.  A low rumbling sounded deep in the dragon’s throat and the walls reverberated.

Theo stepped down into the pit, his heart pounding.  They’d destroyed the gaatlok, but with a dragon breathing venom it wouldn’t be hard for the Viddasala to just make more.  She didn’t deserve that chance, and _Ataashi_ deserved freedom.  

“Theodane, love, far be it from me to question your actions, but are you quite well?” Dorian asked pleasantly, but Theo could hear the strain in his voice.  He just nodded and drew closer to the dragon.  

Theo pulled his knife from his belt holster and sawed through the ropes around one foreleg.  The dragon watched him, that growl sounding again in its chest.  When the ropes had snapped Theo stepped back and held up his hands in a gesture of peace.  He met those watery yellow eyes and waited.   _Ataashi_ nodded, or appeared to, and he did the same to the other forelg, then the hindleg.  Even in its current state the dragon could easily kill him, but he had to try.

At last he stood before the dragon and met its gaze.   _Ataashi_ lowered its head and gently nudged him with its muzzle.  Theo’s hands were shaking, but he managed to cut away the ropes binding the massive jaws together.  The dragon lifted its head and opened its jaws wide.  The roar shook Theo to his very core.  His hand sparked and his ears rang, and he realized that the roars he’d heard earlier were nothing compared to this.  The Qunari on the other side of the portcullis stopped when they saw the dragon’s jaws freed.   _Ataashi_ lowered its head and nuzzled Theo’s shoulder.  He reached out a trembling hand and gently strokes the scaly muzzle.  “Would you like out?” He asked, and the dragon nudged him toward the gate controls.

 _Ataashi_ lunged toward the opening gate and was almost smiling, the sharp, yellowish teeth glinting in the moonlight.  Qunari warriors screamed as the dragon emerged and stormed out into the night, breathing fire and venom.  It took off, scooping up a couple guards in its claws and letting them fall back to the battlements with sick thuds.  The dragon circled, roaring and letting out one more breath of fire as it swooped by.  Theo felt the wind of its wings blow through his sweat-soaked hair, and then it was gone.

Dorian, Iron Bull, and Varric stood behind him and together they stared down the Viddasala, who stood before yet another Eluvian.  The mark was pulsing again, burning down through his fingertips and up past his elbow.  He pushed his friends back and the energy surged through him once again: an explosion of green light and heat that shot into the sky like a flare.  It felt like his bones were dissolving, like his skin could barely hold his arm together.

When the moment passed the Viddasala was still standing there with her guards and her pet Saarebas.  “I sought to destroy you, Inquisitor,” she said, but her voice was softer.  “But I see that, like all dangerous things, when left unchecked you will destroy yourself.”  Theo wished he could disagree with her.  “I also thought you were the enemy, but this journey has shown me differently.”

“Who’s the real enemy then?” he asked through clenched teeth, trying to breathe through the waves of fire coursing down his arm.

“The agent of Fen’Harel.”

“We’re not with Fen’Harel.  I’m not even an elf!” Theo snapped.

“No, but you worked with him,” she told him, and at Theo’s blank stare a sad smile spread over her face.  “Ah.  I see it’s a surprise to you.  He was with your Inquisition from the start; he practically founded it.  He knew what the orb was, because he was the one who gave it to Corypheus.  He showed you to Skyhold.  He guided you and saved your life once before, because if you had died, he would have failed.  He pushed our warrior through the mirror and lured you into this game.”

The self-portrait of Fen’Harel: a bald elf with a long, straight nose and slightly clefted chin.  Fen’Harel, the dread wolf, the trickster god of the elves.  Solas, a bald elf with a straight nose who wore a wolf’s jawbone around his neck.  Solas, who had tricked him and played him like a pawn.

The most powerful man in Thedas indeed.

His hand glowed brightly and another shock of pain made him drop to his knees.  He watched through teary eyes as the Viddasala headed through her Eluvian and disappeared.

Other than the hiss and crackle of his mark the night was quiet.  “We stopped the Dragon’s Breath,” Bull eventually said.  “We can go tell--”

“No.”  Theo got to his feet and dragged himself toward the Eluvian, even though his vision was swimming and the pain in his hand was surging up into his shoulder and down the whole left side of his body by now.

“ _Amatus--”_  Theo turned to see his friends and his husband all staring at him, clearly worried.  “The Viddasala will take care of Solas,” Dorian said.  “Please.  You need help.  Let’s go back.”

“NO!” Theo shouted.  He took a shuddering breath.  “No,” he said more softly.  “The Viddasala doesn’t get to kill Solas.   _I’m killing Solas.”_

He raised his glowing, burning hand to the Eluvian.  The glass rippled and he stepped through without looking back.


	20. By the Dread Wolf

_9:41 Dragon_

The villager had tears in his eyes as Theo handed him the medication he’d tracked down on the other side of the Hinterlands.  “Thank you.  Maker bless you.  Thank you.  My wife will be able to breathe again.”

Theo smiled, tired but glad he’d been able to track down the man’s apostate son--a needle in a flaming haystack, with the sheer amount of apostates swarming the countryside.  “Just doing the Inquisition’s work,” he said, sounding a little too bright, a little too forced, but this was all so much to get used to.

“Come on, let’s let the captain know that we got rid of the bandits, too,” he told Cassandra, Varric, and Solas.

The apostate elf smiled.  “What’s happened is terrible,” he said.  “I’m glad we can help.”

Theo was glad too.  He still didn’t understand this strange mark on his hand.  He still didn’t know how it got there, or why only he could close the tears in the Fade that poured demons into a countryside already torn apart by fighting mages and templars.  But he did understand that he had some capacity to help, and if it meant tracking down wayward sons and fighting off bands of thieves, he was glad to do it.  Besides, it felt good to be useful rather than withering away within Chantry walls.

It was definitely overwhelming.  Every time he looked up to the Breach roiling in the sky he was reminded of what a huge undertaking this was.  Traipsing through southwestern Ferelden, locating apostate supply caches and neutralizing rogue templar threats didn’t seem to make a dent in the war on the ground, or affect the magical tempest in the sky.  They couldn’t even acquire horses for Cullen’s proposed cavalry unless they helped clear out a den of seemingly possessed wolves that were attacking Master Dennett’s Redcliffe farm.

“The Breach may have driven them mad; or perhaps they became possessed by demons,” Solas said.  His voice was sorrowful and his long fingers stroked the slightly singed fur of a dead wolf.  He murmured something in elven.

“Do you know a lot about wolves, Solas?” Cassandra asked, cleaning off her sword.

He didn’t look up.  “I know they are intelligent, practical creatures that small-minded fools look at as terrible beasts.”  He cleared his throat and got to his feet.  “I am sorry it came to this for these creatures.  But we have helped Master Dennett, and that is what we set out to do.”

* * *

_9:44 Dragon_

_Manipulative bastard._  Theo ground his teeth together and forced one foot in front of the other.   _Lying piece of shit._  He blinked the tears and sweat out of his stinging eyes and held his left arm close to his body.  He hoped the Viddasala and her troops were too focused on apprehending Solas, their agent of Fen’Harel; if he had to fight, he would be useless.  He would probably have to use his mark to take the elf down, and he would enjoy every moment of it, even if it killed him in the process.

The Eluvian out of the Darvaarad had led him into another elven ruin.  Where it had been nighttime in Par Vollen, it was sunrise here.  The sky was pink and orange, the air misty and cool and sweet.  A few birds flew overhead, and waterfalls splashed into crystal clear pools.  Theo was able to follow the wet prints of the Qunari who’d come before him.  He couldn’t let the Viddasala get to Solas before he did.  He couldn’t let her kill the man who’d made him little more than a puppet.

That hurt almost as much as his hand.  He’d been in the wrong place at the right time and stopped Corypheus.  But it had been a lucky accident.  Since his miraculous survival Solas had been pulling his strings and manipulating the Inquisition toward his own ends.  Theo had thought he was powerful: that he was someone, that he and his work meant something.  That had been a mistake all along.

He paused to catch his breath.  His left arm was numb now, green light pulsing through his veins and crackling out his fingertips.  It was as if the closer he got to Solas, the hungrier the mark became.  It was going to devour him.

“Theodane!”

He turned.  Dorian had followed him through the mirror.  His dark hair was a mess and his cheeks were flushed.  He couldn’t drag Dorian into this.  Dorian had been as much a pawn as he had, and that was bad enough.  And he couldn’t let Dorian face Solas, and perhaps also the Viddasala and her mage.  He would not be responsible for Dorian being harmed.  “Stay back, Dor,” he croaked.  “I’m not safe.  It’s going to hurt you.”

Dorian’s nostrils flared and he looked stricken.  Then he regained his composure and continued toward Theo.  Behind him, Bull and Varric had come through as well.  Dorian held up one hand and the other two hung back.  Dorian approached Theo, heedless of the uncontrolled energy starting to consume him from the inside out.  “It’s hurting _you_ , love,” Dorian said.  “And that pains me in turn.”  Theo tried to pull away, but Dorian held him tightly. “I’ve been with you every step of the way.  Let me come with you and help you now as well.”

Theo nodded at last, torn between pushing Dorian away from the inevitable end, and clinging to him desperately.  “I love you, Dorian,” he whispered, and Dorian kissed him.

They followed the Qunari footprints.  There was no sign of a battle or struggle, and Bull swore when the prints ended right in front of yet another Eluvian.  “I’m sick of this elven magical shit,” he growled.

“I know,” Theo said.  “I’m going to end it.  I’m going to end Solas.”

“He wasn’t all bad, was he?” Dorian asked with a smile.  “If he hadn’t had his little scheme we’d never have met.”  He kissed Theo lightly once more and when he pulled back his grey eyes were glassy.

Cassandra crying was bad enough, but Theo couldn’t handle Dorian shedding tears over him.  “I love you Dorian.  Always have, always will,” he whispered before turning and stumbling headlong toward the mirror.

Dorian screamed his name as he fell through the glass.  Theo fully expected Dorian and the other two to follow him; but when he glanced back the glass was flat and dark.  His heart skipped a beat and his stomach twisted.  He was trapped here in ruins lost to time and place.

He would mourn later, if his hand didn’t kill him first.  He got to his feet and moved forward.  There were more Qunari statues here, like the ones he’d seen in the first ruins they’d found.  One huge Saarebas, clawing at the air, with stone chains flying outward, and stone thread snapped as its mouth opened in a final scream.  And one, with intricately carved ropework around her petrified horns, holding a spear in mid air.  A spear aimed at the bald elf dressed in gilded armor, wearing a wolf pelt, smiling and waiting for Theo.  “Solas,” he hissed in greeting.

“Inquisitor Trevelyan,” Solas said with a sad smile.

“You’re the agent of Fen’Harel.”  He couldn’t keep standing.  His legs gave out and he knelt in the soft grass.

Solas cocked his head to the side curiously.  “Agent?  No.  I am no agent of the Dread Wolf.  But I’m sure you must have questions.”

Theo stared at his wolf pelt; at the jawbone necklace he still wore about his neck.  He recalled the self-portrait fresco stored at the Darvaarad.  “You… you _are_ the Dread Wolf?”

“Solas came first,” he said.  “Fen’Harel, later.  Fen’Harel, a name to inspire hope in my friends and fear in my enemies.  Not too much unlike you, I suppose.”  Solas sighed and stared down at him, him blue-gray eyes pitying.  “I know your burden,” he said, unconcerned by the violent light bathing him and turning him bright green.  Theo looked up, vision blurred by tears.  “You inspire hope in your friends; fear in your enemies.  You want to change the world, and the world fears change.  So it turns on you.”

“The world didn’t turn on me.  This mark did,” Theo choked out.  He held his arm close to his body, trying so hard to find something to make the agony stop.  His hand was on fire, burning from the inside out with the heat of the Fade energy.  He turned his head to the side and vomited on the grass, which curled with the heat of his expanding mark.

“The mark made you who you are,” Solas said, dropping to one knee and looking at him with those ancient eyes.  There was pity, but no sadness or regret.

Hatred welled up in Theo.  He looked down at his hand and promptly threw up again.  The green light was flaying away the flesh and muscle and melting away the bones underneath.  Charred skin drifted on the air like cinders and his fingertips were little more than green light.  “The mark chose me,” he hissed.   _“I_ made me who I am.  You?  You just used me.  I was just your pawn.”

Solas had the decency to bow his head and look away.  “I never thought for things to happen as they did.  You, your Inquisition… it was all a means to an end, yes.  But you did deserve better than this.  Like everyone else I’ve used in one hopeless battle after another.  But this time I will win.  To save my world, I must end this one.”

“I’ll kill you first,” Theo snarled, but he couldn’t get to his feet.  

“I am sorry, Theodane.  I bear you no ill will. In fact I often admired your insight.  I once asked what kind of hero you might become.  I was pleased to see that you were a good one.”

Another flash of green light, and Theo’s blood roared in his ears.  His heart raced and he couldn’t breathe. His wrist was disintegrating.  His stomach heaved.  His vision swam.  “Then just kill me,” he gasped, falling forward, hand outstretched.  Leliana had once told him that anger was stronger than pain; but this was unbearable.  His rage at Solas was eclipsed by the searing flesh and the disintegrating bone.

“Your death, here and now, would cause untold problems,” Solas said, rising to his feet.  “We’ve headed off the Qunari invasion that would certainly have destroyed the South; if you die they’d blame the Qunari and launch a futile assault on Par Vollen to avenge the Inquisitor.”  Theo tried to breathe through the pain and couldn’t.  He saw stars.

“With luck, they’ll turn their attentions to Tevinter after this and buy me time,” Solas said.  “That mirror will return you to Halamshiral.  I’m truly sorry.”  He turned his back.  He stepped through another Eluvian.  The glass darkened and a crack resounded over the high pitched whine of the Fade ripping Theo’s arm to shreds.

Theo rolled over and writhed on the ground under the pale sun.  He grabbed his arm at the elbow, holding it close and digging his fingers into the muscles as if he could squeeze away the pain.  Screams welled up in his lungs and tore from his throat.  He wished he could escape, pull out of his own skin and run away from this agony.

But worst of all was the realization that he’d failed.   _He_ hadn’t stopped the Viddasala, Solas had.  And he hadn’t stopped Solas, either.  Whatever the Dread Wolf planned would happen, because he’d been unable to stop him.  The pain had been too great, and he hadn’t been strong enough to withstand it anymore.  He’d failed, and that hurt worse than anything.

 

* * *

“THEO!” Dorian screamed, hands splayed across the dark glass of the Eluvian before him.  He pulled out every spell he could to make the glass move, to let him through.  The Fade spirits that so often communicated with him were agitated, flitting back and forth between the thin Veil and the real world.  Misty purple skeletons and amorphous spirits drifted around him, their moans of confusion drowning out his cries.

 _Don’t do this to me, you bastard!_  he thought as he pounded the mirror’s surface, willing it to move, to let him through.  Had Theo’s mark been the key letting them through these mirrors?  Were they stuck forever in these ruins where it was always cool sunrise?  

The moments ticked by and Dorian’s mana seeped out of him.  He pulled from the Fade, trying everything he could to get the mirror working.  Then Bull’s huge hands were under his arms, picking him up, pulling him away from the Eluvian, and Dorian snapped to attention again.  “No!  I’m not leaving!  There must be a way through!”

“Dorian, stop,” Bull said softly.  “He knew what he was doing.”

Dorian spun around, wrenching his arm out of Bull’s grasp.  “No.  Not this again.  I _left him_ at Haven, at the mercy of Corypheus.  I won’t leave him again.”  He lunged back toward the mirror.  

“You love him.”

“Of course I do, you brute!”  His eyes burned with tears.

“Then let him go.”

Dorian looked between Bull and Varric.  Varric nodded.  “He knew what he needed to do, Sparkler,” Varric said, laying a hand on his arm.

It felt like a clawed hand reaching down his throat and into his chest to pull out his heart.  The Fade spirits hovered at the edge of his vision.  Perhaps Varric and Bull were right… then he remembered the pained expression on Theo’s pale and sweaty face and thought of him through the looking glass, dying alone…

He pulled away from Varric and used what mana he still had to call the spirits together again.  A ball of lightning coalesced in his hands.  He stormed toward the Eluvian, surrounded by spirits and fired off the magical lightning.  It was certain death, but so was a world without Theo.

He pitched into, then through the glass.  There was a moment of breathless weightlessness before he landed in a patch of grass surrounded by Qunari statues.  “No,” he whispered, tripping over himself to get to Theo’s side.

And then Dorian was straddling him, holding his head in his hands. “ _Amatus_.  Theo.  Theo, please,” he said in a shaky voice.  He wiped the sweat off Theo’s forehead and held him.  “Shhh.  Please.  I’m here.”  He stroked his hair out of his face.  The green glow reflected in Dorian’s silvery gray eyes and made his warm toned skin look sallow and sick.  He tried to smile.  “We’ll stop this.”  Yet even as he said it he didn’t know how it was possible.  The damage was done, and aside from replicating Alexius’s time magic, he was helpless.

“Kill me.  Killmekillmekill me,” Theo babbled.  He was sweating, his breath coming in shallow gasps and his green eyes glassy.  “Dorian please, make it stop.  Kill me,” he gasped, reaching for Dorian with his right hand.

Dorian looked up at the Iron Bull, who had come through the Eluvian just after him; whatever had spelled it had been lifted to allow them through just in time.  “He won’t make it, will he,” he said.  Theo was writhing even under Dorian’s weight on his torso; his right hand fumbled to take hold of Dorian’s robes while his left arm was slowly dissolving into green cinders.

Bull closed his one eye and sighed.  “No.  Not with the fucking mark eating his arm away.”  His nostrils flared and he shook his horned head.  “Can you part with that belt?” he asked, gesturing to one of the tooled leather belts at Dorian’s waist.  Dorian wordlessly undid the buckle and handed the belt over to Bull.  Bull grunted his approval and knelt down.  “Varric, you too,” he said, and the dwarf complied.  “Hey Boss.  Hey.  Over here.”

Theo flicked his eyes to Bull.  His lips looked bluish and his voice shook.  “C-c-can you… m-make it… stop?”

Bull looped Dorian’s belt around Theo’s arm, just above the elbow. The angry green magic was melting away the bones of his forearm.  Bull nodded.  “Yeah, I can, but it’s probably going to hurt.”  He pulled the belt tight.  Dorian’s stomach lurched as he realized what Bull was planning.

“Worse than… than this?”  Theo was in shock; if the magic kept up at this pitch, Dorian was certain it would kill him.

Bull glanced at the polished bow on the ground a few paces away.  He tugged at the makeshift tourniquet once more.  “Probably,” he said.  “Bite down on this, Boss.  It’s better than chewing your own tongue off or breaking teeth.”  He gently wedged one of Varric’s belts between Theo’s teeth.  He stood.  “Dorian, hold him down.  Lean on his shoulder, if you can, keep his arm still.  Varric, sit on his legs.  He’s going to kick.”  He reached behind him and hefted his axe.

Horror flooded through Dorian, turning his blood to ice.  He stared up at the Qunari, a big horned shadow against the oblique rays of the sun.  “You can’t be serious.”

“You’re right,” Bull said, looking up from the blade he was testing with his finger.  Blood bubbled up on the fingertip and he wiped it off on his pants.  “This is a terrible idea.  We’ll just let the fucking green magic light slowly eat him while we watch.  That sounds like _fun_.”

Dorian looked down; Theo shivered and stared up at the sky while the magic consumed him.  Dorian laid a hand on his cheek; he was cool and clammy.  “Do it,” he said to Bull.  His heart was in his throat, choking him.  His eyes were hot as he silently begged whomever would listen to spare Theo’s life.  “I’m sorry,” he said, and leaned all his weight onto Theo’s left shoulder.  He hoped Bull’s aim with the axe would be true.

Bull murmured something in Qunlat.  He raised his axe.  Dorian closed his eyes and winced as he heard the metal sing through the air.

Theo screamed in his ear and it was all Dorian could do to hold him down as he writhed and kicked under him.  He swallowed the sobs that wanted to come out and murmured nonsensical Tevene.  Things he remembered his mother saying to him when he was young, when she thought he wouldn’t hear or remember; when she thought he was sleeping.  Theo’s right arm flailed and he tried to grab at Dorian’s robes, hand slapping at his back like a fish out of water might flap on the land: lost, desperate, pained.

Bull knelt down.  “I’ll hold him down.  You need to seal the wound.”

“You can’t mean…”

“He’ll die if you don’t.”

Dorian looked up, blinking rapidly to clear his vision.  He glanced over and his stomach heaved nearly up into his rib cage.  The green light was eating what was left of Theo’s forearm, lying in the grass; the rest of Theo’s arm was a stump severed just above the elbow.  Blood pumped from the wound, the tourniquet helping to slow it, but without sealing the wound, he would bleed to death.

His hands shook as he held them toward the bleeding stump.  He could hardly hear Theo sobbing over the rush of blood in his ears.  He tried to breathe deep, to stare at the cut clinically, to rely on logic to convince himself that this was what had to happen to save Theo’s life.  He pulled at threads of mana.  He’d saved Theo’s life with fire once before, long ago when he’d first joined the Inquisition.  He would do it again.

Dorian channeled the flame magic in a concentrated, steady stream at the stump.  Bull chanted in Qunlat while Theo shrieked and tried to kick Varric away.  The smell of singed hair and roasting flesh nauseated him, but he kept up the flames.  He burned away the edges of tissue and the severed strands of muscle and the end of bone.  At last he released his grip on the magic, turned away, and threw up.

He wiped his hand across the back of his mouth. He tasted sour bile and the tang of smoke and charred meat.  He felt so dizzy, so light.  Varric’s shoulders slumped as he climbed off of Theo.  Even Bull looked… not grim.  Sad.  Bull did not do ‘sad’.  Bull did grim, stoic, disappointed, angry.  Not sad.  Not like he could break, like he looked now.

The green light faded, leaving them in the golden glow of the sun.  The air was warm and quiet without the whine of the mark.  Finally Bull heaved a weary sigh and stood up.  He wiped the blade of his axe on the grass and secured it on his back.  “You okay, Dorian?”  Dorian nodded.  “You’re a terrible liar,” Bull told him, and Dorian felt a smile tug at his lips.  It had to be shock after what he’d seen.  What he’d done.  “Let’s get the Boss back,” Bull said.

He hefted Theo up in his great arms and headed toward the Eluvian; Varric and Dorian followed. His feet felt like boulders as he slogged through the charred and bloody grass.  He nearly tripped, and thought it was just his weariness; but when he looked down, the rosy-gold sunlight shone softly on polished wood.

Bull carried Theo through the Eluvian.  Dorian carried Theo’s bow.  

Theo had cheated death yet again, but Dorian feared this time the cost was too high.  He was alive, but barely, and there was nothing lucky about it.


	21. Trevelyan's End

For the first two days after returning through the Eluvian, Dorian watched helplessly as the Empress’s best healers, chosen from Vivienne’s recommendations, came.  Bull’s cut had been clean, and Dorian’s flame had stopped Theo from bleeding to death, but fighting off the magic had done other damage to his body and then to his mind that even the most talented healers could hardly touch.  The best they could do was keep him in a fitful sleep induced by thick potions.

_ I’d rather have you alive and filthy than pristine and dead,  _ Dorian had told him only a few mornings ago.  It was still true.  He helped servants empty chamber pots, he wiped the sweat and tear tracks from Theo’s dirt-smudged face, he ran a cool cloth over his arms and legs and made himself stare as healers changed the dressings on the burned stump: what remained of his left arm.   _ I did that,  _ Dorian told himself, when the gnarled flesh made him feel sick to his stomach.   _ To save you, _ he thought, staring at Theo’s pale face.  His eyelashes fluttered and his mouth grimaced with whatever potion-induced dreams plagued him.

Nothing anyone did was quite enough, and as the days became a week Dorian was certain he would lose his love.  He slept in short bursts, waking in panic when he couldn’t hear Theo breathing--only to realize it was because Theo’s breathing was a bit deeper and stronger, not so shallow and ragged.  His eyes were half open, but glazed and unfocused.  Dorian sighed and carded his fingers through Theo’s tangled hair.  Part of him wished he could pass on, peacefully and quietly, free of his burdens and injuries.  It would hurt terribly; but so did watching him linger in a magically induced coma with no end in sight, good or bad.

Someone tapped on the door timidly.  “Come in,” he called, running a hand through his hair and over his face.  He needed a shave and a proper bath.  He needed Theo to be alive and well.  The chances of either happening were looking slim.

It was Cullen, followed by a plump woman with soft golden-brown eyes and tousled, curly, white-blonde hair.  She met his gaze and he immediately felt calm fill the room--or maybe it was just in his mind.  She dropped her eyes and did a small curtsey.  Cullen gestured to a chair near the bed, and Dorian nodded.  He pulled one up as well.  “Is he the same?” Cullen asked.  Dorian just nodded again, not trusting himself to speak.  “I’m sorry, Dorian,” Cullen said, gently clapping him on the back.  He cleared his throat.  “This is Melina, a friend of mine from my time in Ferelden,” he said, but he was blushing slightly, and the way he cast a sidelong glance at Melina, Dorian figured there was some history there.

“Ser Cullen contacted me immediately; when he told me of the situation I had to come,” she told Dorian.  She sat primly on the edge of the chair, hands folded in her lap.  Her rose-colored robes were the southern style, and she wore a polished gold amulet of Andraste around her neck.  She turned her gaze back to Theo.  Her brow furrowed and she blinked rapidly.  “Even in sleep his mind rages,” she murmured.

“Mellie is a spirit healer,” Cullen explained.

“And an empath as a result,” Dorian finished.  No wonder he’d felt a shift in his emotions when she entered. 

“The injury to his body is severe, but what his mind has suffered only makes it worse,” she said.  “May I?”

Dorian vacated his seat so Melina could get closer to Theo.  She touched her amulet.  “Arise, Aegis of the Faith. You are not forgotten.  Neither man nor Maker shall forget your bravery, so long as I remember.  At this, his wounds healed,” she prayed.  Dorian smiled.  Theo hated being known as the Herald of Andraste and put little stock in the Chantry or the Maker.  Melina rested her hand on his forehead.  Her fingertips glowed white; Theo’s eyelids fluttered and his brow furrowed.  She chanted softly.  At one point Theo’s eyes opened wide and he gasped.  Dorian instinctively rose, but Cullen grabbed his forearm.

“Mellie knows what she’s doing,” he told him.  “The things she witnessed during the Blight, and the people she healed with her abilities… while they weren’t the same as this, she is one of the best healers I’ve ever known.  And I’ve known many mages in my life,” Cullen added.  

At last Melina stepped away, swaying slightly.  Cullen jumped up and helped her into a chair.  “Thank you, Commander,” she told him.  She was pale, but smiling.  “I can do more tomorrow. I believe we may be headed toward improvements, but he is more than injured.  He’s been broken in mind and spirit as well as body.”  She smoothed her robes.  “I think we should take a rest.  Perhaps have a meal and clean up.”  Cullen agreed and they both rose.  “I mean you as well, Ser Pavus,” Melina said.

Dorian’s mana spiked defensively, but Melina waved her hand and cast a shield around herself and Cullen.  “I’ll have something brought,” he said tiredly, willing his mana to subside.

Melina rested her hand on his shoulder.  It felt warm, and he felt a subtle nudge of calm at the edges of his mind that he couldn’t avoid.  “Your husband will rest well enough for now.  I believe you need healing as well.  You’re wearing yourself thin.”  Her golden eyes were concerned.  “Even the spirits of the Fade tell you this.  They’ve never led you astray before, so why fight them now?” she asked.  He narrowed his gaze at her and she smiled.  “I use my connection to spirits to heal; you use yours to conjure fear and death.  But we are both intimately connected to the Fade and use it to help one another and those we care for.  Listen to your magic, Ser.”

He wasn’t sure if it was her empathetic magic, or the earnest tone of her voice, but Dorian finally smiled.  “Please.  Just Dorian. And… sod it, I’ll go.  But not for long,” he said.   _ Watch him.  Protect him, _ he told the spirits of the Fade.

“They will do as you ask,” Melina said with a smile of her own.  “I promise he will be well while we are away.  Inquisitor Trevelyan’s stubbornness has been a thing of legend throughout southern Thedas.”.

Dorian followed them to a sitting room that had been closed off by Inquisition guards who kept the public at bay.  He had no doubt Duke Cyril and Arl Teagan were trying to decide how this turn of events worked in their respective favors, and suddenly wanted to see Teagan, to physically slap the disdain off his face and then maybe blast him out of the palace.   _ Look what he gave up for you.  He saved you in spite of your petty bickering.  He never wanted the power you ascribed to him,  _ he’d shout.  And then he’d zap Cyril’s mask right off his face, look him in the eye and--

“Dorian?” Melina rested a hand on his shoulder.  “You’re upset.  Eat.  Drink.  Clean up.  Then you must rest.”

“You’re not going to tell me to be strong for him?” Dorian asked, his voice strained.  A servant set down a cup of warm mulled wine.

“Eventually.  Right now you need to feel.  You need to process your own pain before you can take on his,” she told him, sipping at her own cup, and delicately tearing the crust off a piece of bread.  “Otherwise it will be too much, for both of you.”

Dorian just nodded and tried to force down some bread and soup.  His stomach twisted with anxiety, but he made himself eat.  It did help him feel better: less fuzzy and slightly more focused, but he wouldn’t give Melina the satisfaction of knowing that, regardless of how sweet and compassionate she was toward him.  He still had his pride.  And the way people looked at him, guarded, as though he may break if they spoke to him, was hurting that as well.

He left Melina and Cullen chatting with Leliana, reminiscing about their time in Ferelden during the blight.  “I am sorry Arl Teagan grew so bitter,” Melina lamented.  “The burdens of leadership can be too heavy.”

Dorian hurried out into the hallway and turned a corner.  He lost himself in the corridors of the palace’s guest wing and finally stopped in a dim hallway and leaned against the wall.  What would Arl Teagan know about the burdens of leadership?  The stories of his bumbling about as King Alistair’s envoy in Orlais and elsewhere were widespread.  He’d led a  _ village _ . Theo had led the Inquisition, saved the world multiple times now, and remained compassionate and generous, and above all, humble.

A small cry escaped him, and his eyes burned with unshed tears.  His eyelids felt lined with grit, and his ribs too tight around his lungs.  He drew his knees to his chest and buried his head in his hands and released the dam on his emotions.  He let himself grieve and feel heartache and anxiety.  He had avoided falling in love because he knew to love was to be vulnerable; but Theo had shown him that being vulnerable with another could actually be a strength.  Except times like this, though, when Dorian realized that the thought of losing Theo _hurt_ _so badly_.

He was a snotty, tear-streaked mess when at last his sobs turned into shuddering breaths, but he felt lighter, and ironically, stronger: able to face the uncertainty of what was to come.  He got to his feet, leaning against the wall, and headed toward his room.  Miraculously he saw no one, but there were more shadows than usual in these halls and he realized that the Fade spirits were shadowing him from prying eyes.  It was… touching, really, if one could call spirits of death sentimental.

Dorian slipped into the suite of rooms.  Someone had opened the windows a bit and the sweet evening air was fresh and clean.  A bath had been run for him and kept warm magically, and he disrobed and sank into the water.  It felt good to get clean, truly clean, and he realized it had been an embarrassingly long time between now and his last proper wash.  He then shaved and combed his hair back into place before slipping into loose, comfortable clothing and heading back to Theo’s side.

He pulled the settee up to the side of the bed and reclined on it, stretching out his legs and leaning on his elbow as he watched Theo sleep.  He wasn’t agitated anymore, and his chest rose and fell evenly.  His lips were dry and cracked though, and dark circles ringed his eyes.  Dorian took Theo’s hand, rubbing his thumb over the gold wedding band there.  “I love you,” he whispered.

 

* * *

 

The settee was awkward and uncomfortable and Dorian’s neck was stiff.  Even worse, his shoulder was  _ wet _ , meaning he’d drooled on himself.  He winced and shifted, but stopped suddenly.

Theo was staring at him, his green eyes still glassy, but focused.  “Hey,” he whispered.  “I’m not dead.  Again.”

Dorian scrambled upright.  “Maker’s breath I’m so happy you’re awake,” he told him, grabbing his hand and squeezing.  He brushed Theo’s hair off his forehead.  “Do you need anything?” he asked.

Theo closed his eyes.  “My mouth tastes like the Fallow Mire,” he said in his raspy voice.  Dorian got him some water and helped him drink.  “Can you tell me what happened?  I don’t really remember a lot,” he finally said and bit his bottom lip.  Dorian recounted what had happened from the moment he fell through the Eluvian in the ruins, but found it hard to go on when he got to the part about what he and Bull had had to do.  

Theo closed his eyes and his brow furrowed in thought.  “It… still feels like it’s there,” Theo said.  “Not painful the way it was.  But still there.” He looked back at Dorian.  “For three years I wished that thing would be gone, and now it is and I…”

“Shh.”  Dorian kissed his forehead.  “I’ll call the spirit healer back in and have you looked at.”

Moments later Melina arrived.  She shooed Cullen and Leliana out of the way and closed the door behind her.  “Your friends are overjoyed, Inquisitor Trevelyan,” she said with a smile that Theo did not return.  He kept his eyes locked on Dorian as Melina examined him, until she got to his left arm.  “This may be painful, Ser,” she said, resting a hand on his forehead and letting white light seep into him.  She got to work on the bandages, occasionally asking Dorian to bring her something.  Theo would not look at either of them.

She gently cleaned the burn wounds, then held his arm in both hands.  Dorian felt the energy of the spirits surrounding her, working through her to heal his arm.

“Dor… can you tell your friends to go away?” Theo asked suddenly.

“My…  _ Vishante kaffas,” _ Dorian muttered.  A few purple-tinged spirits flitted around him, watching.  “Thank you,” he said to them, aloud, since Theo could clearly see them.  “We’ll call when you are needed.”  Even Theo managed to smile a little bit at that.

Melina wrapped Theo’s arm stump in clean bandages soaked in a solution of elfroot, prophet’s laurel, and embrium flowers.  “I’ll be back later in the day.  I’ll see that tea is sent, probably something with ginger to settle your stomach after all the potions.  Please let me know any way I might serve you, Inquisitor.”

Theo just nodded and Melina left.  The window was still open, and the sweet breeze mingled with the herby scent of the poultice.  “Do you want to sit up?” Dorian asked, and Theo nodded.  “I’m sure you're quite stiff.”  Theo struggled to prop himself up on his elbow while Dorian arranged pillows and bolsters behind him, then helped him get upright and lean back.  “How do you feel?”

“Do you want the truth?”

“Yes,  _ Amatus _ .  I can’t be the man you need unless you’re honest with me,” Dorian told him.  He took a shuddering breath.

“I feel… like I’m not the Inquisitor anymore.”

Dorian expected something about pain, about feeling dirty or tired or even needing to relieve himself properly, but not this.  “Of course you are,” he finally said.  “The mark didn’t make you--”

“We both know that, but to everyone else, that’s what made me the Inquisitor.”  He leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling.  “I thought I didn’t want to be him anymore.  But now it’s like part of me died.”  He sighed.  “Ameridan was right.  Do you suppose he spent eight centuries thinking about all he gave up for everyone else?”

Dorian hadn’t considered the first Inquisitor in months.  “I don’t know what spell he used; it’s likely he was in stasis, and if he dreamed, the Fade is timeless,” he said, picking at a thread on the blankets.

“I thought I could do better.  That it wouldn’t consume me like it did him.”

“What do you want now?” Dorian asked, almost afraid of what Theo would say.

His grip tightened around Dorian’s hand.  “To do what the last Inquisitor could not.  To stop being Inquisitor.  It’s over, Dor.  I  _ can’t  _ be him anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to I_Write_Tragedies_Not_Sins for allowing Mellie to appear! Mellie is just one of a cast of fantastic and dynamic characters from their story "What Has Been Wrought", found here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6845023/chapters/15625303


	22. Enough

Everything took twice as long: taking off clothing, putting on clothing, pulling out chairs, trying to read a book.  Shaving was out of the question right now, and Theo had to sit patiently while Dorian trimmed and then shaved the beard that had started to grow during his convalescence.  He tried to tell himself that this could be the new normal, letting his husband wait on him like this.  He tried to smile but he only had to take one glance in the mirror at the emptiness below his left elbow and it was all he could do to keep from screaming.

He didn’t want visitors, even after he had finally cleaned up, been shaved, and had his hair combed.  Dorian offered to be his liaison to his advisors, but he didn’t want to saddle his husband with that.  When he said as much, Dorian sighed.  “I respect your desire to step down from your role as Inquisitor, love.  But there are things that need be seen to by you yourself, or me acting in your stead temporarily, in order for that to become official.”  He rested his hand on Theo’s, running his thumb over Theo’s knuckles.

Perhaps the hardest part was accepting that Dorian was right.  If Dorian was right it meant starting to live again.  It meant facing the world again, and the people in it.  It meant facing them in all of his failure and pain and weakness.  He couldn’t even lace up his own fucking breeches.

“Start slow,” Melina advised when it came up the next day after she’d healed his injury a bit more.  Every day it got better, but the fact that a healer, and a spirit healer at that, had to keep seeing to him didn’t help his feelings about it all.  “Perhaps the Commander could visit when I come later?”  She smiled and tucked a pale blonde curl behind her ears.  

Theo took a deep breath.  “That would be fine,” he said after a moment.

Melina rested her hand on his forearm.  “Cullen knows what it is to be broken,” she told him, her golden-brown eyes deep and serious, and there was little point arguing with her, especially when she was telling the truth.

“The commander will be glad to see you up and about, truthfully,” Dorian told him, helping him struggle into a loose-fitting linen shirt. 

“Of course he saw me while I was out cold,” Theo said with a groan.

“My dear, most of our merry little band did, as well as several servants and a retinue of healers,” Dorian told him, fussing over his hair. Theo tried to swat his hand away, but Dorian caught him lightly by the wrist and kissed his fingertips.  “Most, even your closest friends, believed your luck had finally run out.”

“And you?”

“I told you I wasn’t saying goodbye,” Dorian said, planting a kiss on his lips.  “I’m many things,  _ Amatus, _ but a liar isn’t one of them.”

 

* * *

 

Cullen surprised Theo later on by bringing a chess set, and Melina carried a basket of food and a carafe of weak, spiced wine.  Theo sat on the edge of the bed, ready to submit to her examination, but she shook her head.  “It will be more pleasant for us to visit, Lord Trevelyan,” she told him with a smile as she laid out some rolls, cheese, and cured meats on a plate on one of the side tables.  She had stopped calling him “inquisitor” when she sensed the way his emotions flared at the word, but could not yet bring herself to drop her formality: something Cullen seemed to find endearing.

“She always was so formal, especially back in her Circle days,” he said with a grin that made Melina blush.

Talk turned to Melina’s views of the Circle, and the future of the Circles now with Cassandra as Divine, and then her questions of Dorian about life in Tevinter.  Theo bit back a pang of jealousy when he saw the way Dorian’s face lit up as he spoke about his homeland.

“You’re not going to ask me questions or give me some sappy story about the sun coming up tomorrow?” Theo finally asked Cullen, while Dorian shocked Melina with tales of the heathen Black Chantry to the north.

“No,” Cullen said.  “If you want me to I will.  But there was a time when I was at my breaking point, and  you trusted me to let you know if I needed to talk to you about it when I was ready.  I’m here to return that courtesy.”

Theo narrowed his eyes.  “So no… ‘I know how you feel’ or ‘I’ve been there before’ speeches?”

Cullen shrugged.  “I have been in very dark places.  You know that.  But that’s not what you need right now.”

“And you know what I need?”

“Aside from starting to eat a bit more, you need me to beat you at a game of chess.”

Theo hadn’t played in quite a while, but the moves came back to him easily.  Cullen was quite good, forcing him to focus and consider strategy.  Still, Cullen handily beat him, as promised.  “I’m a commander for a reason,” Cullen told him as he reset the board.  “Never thought I would be, especially after the Ferelden Circle.”  His gaze drifted over toward Melina, who was horrifying Dorian with the joyful way she described Circle life.

They’d discussed Cullen’s demons, literal and metaphorical, before.  “How did you start to come back?” Theo asked him.  He swallowed the growing lump in his throat.

Cullen sat back and thought, absently rubbing at the light stubble on his jaw and chin.  “Slowly,” he said at last.  “You’ve been to the Void and back, Theodane,” he told him.  “No one expects you to recover rapidly.”

“Melina says my stu-- my arm is healing well, considering,” Theo countered.

“Healing and recovering aren’t always the same thing,” Cullen gently told him.

* * *

 

Skyhold had a tiny library in a dark corner of the basement.  Theo had found it quite by accident once, and though it was all dusty and full of cobwebs, he’d used it as a place to hide when he needed solitude.  Sometimes Dorian joined him, but most times he was alone.  He longed for that little nook now, drafts and dust and even the spiders and all as he stood before the door of his suite.  He hadn’t left the suite for over a week, and now he had been deemed sufficiently healthy enough to hold a small council with his inner circle, in the private sitting room down the hall.

His heart knocked against his ribs.  He was torn; he had to let Josephine know of his decision to step down and disband the Inquisition, but a small part of him clung to it all as part of his identity.  He knew the Inquisition had become too large to hold onto, if Qunari spies could work their way in and if Solas had been able to pull such strings.  And more than that, he was  _ tired _ .

He sniffed and furiously rubbed his eyes before opening the door and stepping foot into the hallway.  He’d insisted on going alone, without Dorian or anyone else escorting him.  He had to do this himself.  “Stubborn ass,” Dorian told him, kissing him before heading out.

The halls were quiet.  His boots squeaked on the polished floors, the sound echoing in the hallway.  The eyes of dead Orlesians followed him as he passed by their painted portraits.

The door of the room was open and Theo cursed silently.  No need to knock.  No opportunity to lose his nerve.   _ Just a little while longer, _ he told himself.   _ Just get through this. _

He crossed the threshold.

The conversations stopped as he entered the room and everyone stared at him.  Theo blinked nervously, painfully aware of the way his left shirtsleeve dangled, empty, at his side.  “What’s the matter?” he finally asked.  “You all act like you’ve never seen a one-armed ex-Inquisitor before.”

Then there were hugs, given gingerly to avoid bumping his healing arm; tears; prayers of thanks; and Cassandra lightly swatting the back of his head.  “That is for making me cry,” she snapped, before flopping down in a chair with her arms crossed over her chest, but she couldn’t keep her smile entirely hidden.

“What is this about ex-Inquisitor?” Leliana asked when they’d all finally sat down.

Theo took a deep breath.  “I’ve had a lot of time to think about things.”  Next to him, Dorian squeezed his hand.  “And…”

“The Exalted Council has agreed to give you more time,” Josephine broke in.  “You need not make a rash decision.”

Dorian stifled a groan.

Cullen inhaled sharply.

Theo went cold.  “I should be  _ dead, _ ” he said in a low voice.  “I don’t give a  _ fuck _ what the Exalted Council thinks.  No offense,” he added, glancing at Cassandra, who was, technically, part of the council.  She just shrugged.  She’d seen some of the horrors he had.  “I’m through saving them.  I’ve given more than I had to give, for what?  For them to  _ graciously  _ agree to give me more time, like it’s some  _ fucking favor?” _ His hand shook and his chest constricted.

Josephine’s bottom lip trembled.  “We’ve come so far, though,” she said, swallowing and standing up straighter.  “Now, with your testimony of what happened, they’ll see that the Inquisition is necessary.”

“If you’re going to do that, you’ll have to find another Inquisitor.”

“Perhaps if we--”

“I said I’m  _ done, _ ” he shouted.  “I can’t even shoot a bow anymore!  I’ve almost died…” He paused to think.  The Conclave explosion.  Corypheus’s attack on Haven.  Adamant.  Halamshiral the first time, battles and skirmishes...  “Let’s just say I can’t quite count it on my fingers,” he spat,  “since I only have five left.”

Josephine took a long, slow breath, and let it out in a hiss.  “You’re not the only one who has sacrificed for this organization,” she said in a low voice.  “I have no idea what you came up against, and I am sorry for what it cost you.  But you don’t have any idea what  _ I _ was doing back here.  The alliances I was trying to hold together.  The balances I was trying to maintain.  And even before that, you could hardly be bothered to pay attention to anything anyone was saying!  It’s like you didn’t care, even before that Qunari body was found!”

“Maybe I didn’t.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”  The Iron Bull had been standing in a corner, quiet and observing.  “You cared so much it hurt.  Otherwise you wouldn’t have been the one to go through the mirror all those times.”

Theo looked over at Bull, but Bull’s eye wouldn’t meet his gaze.  Dorian had told him what Bull had had to do to save him, and he still wrestled with anger and guilt and gratitude tangled up in a knot that lodged in his chest when he looked at the Qunari.

Bull was right, which made the knot tighter: he had cared  _ so _ much,  _ too _ much.  It was easier to pretend that he didn’t.  It was easier to pretend he was strong than to admit the awful truth: his time beyond the Eluvian had broken him.

He sighed and looked back to Josephine with her clenched hands and white knuckles and red cheeks.  “I’m done,” he repeated quietly.  “I will inform the ever so gracious members of the Exalted Council of my intention to step down from my role as Inquisitor, and to dissolve the Inquisition.”  He got up and slipped past Josephine and wrested his arm out of Cullen’s grip as the Commander tried to stop him.

“You can’t just give up!” she shouted after him as he started back down the hall.

Theo stopped.  Giving up meant seeing a challenge and turning away from it.  It meant backing down from a threat.  It meant being unwilling to give what was necessary.  He’d overcome every challenge.  He’d faced every threat.  He’d given all he had to give, and then more.  He understood now what Cullen and Bull had meant when they said they were burned out and broken.

He looked over his shoulder and saw his closest friends standing in the doorway, watching him walk away.  “I’m not giving up,” he said at last.  “I’ve just had enough.”


	23. Amends

Theo had disappeared shortly after breakfast the next morning, and Dorian hadn’t seen him since.  He’d asked Cullen regarding his whereabouts, but Cullen didn’t know.  “Maybe he needs some time to himself after last night,” Cullen said.  

“Perhaps it was a mistake to ask him to consider those matters so soon,” Dorian mused.

Cullen was pensive.  “Possibly.  There was no way of knowing otherwise, though.  After Kinloch Hold, I recovered in a nearby Chantry.  When I was asked to transfer to Kirkwall I wasn’t sure if I should go or remain at the Chantry longer.  I wrestled a lot with what to do.”  He scratched at his chin.  “I struggled between whether I was avoiding my duties, and if I truly needed more time to recover.  In the end I chose to go to Kirkwall.  I may have needed more time, but there really is no way of knowing that you’re truly ready to move forward until you just just do.”

Dorian nodded; it was as he’d feared, no simple answers.  “Thank you, Cullen.  Your experiences, horrendous as they were, have yielded valuable insights.”

“The Maker employs harsh teachers sometimes,” he said a bit ruefully.  “But Theodane is blessed to have you, Dorian.”

Dorian thanked him and moved on, but didn’t get far before a page in Inquisition livery stopped him.  A pang twisted in his stomach: most of these people didn’t know that their livelihood of the past three years was on the line.  “Parcel for you, Ser,” the young man said, handing Dorian a box wrapped in parchment, tied with a light blue silk string.  He took it and the page bowed before leaving him.

He slipped into his rooms; the palace staff was finishing cleaning for the morning and had left the windows open, letting in the pleasant breeze.  He locked himself in the washroom and opened the package.  A folded note rested atop an intricately carved and polished wooden box.

 

_ Pavus, _

 

_ My thanks for your payment.  I acquired the requested items and took the liberty to have them set--at my own expense, as my thanks to you for providing me with a worthy challenge of my contacts and abilities. _

 

It wasn’t signed, but Dorian knew, from the magic thrumming in the box, that Savos Enchinus had acquired and sent along the sending crystals.  Dorian had almost forgotten he’d requested them in the flurry of uncertainty over the last week and a half.  He opened the box, and on a bed of gray velvet rested two pale blue, hexagonal gems set in silverite and threaded on carefully wrought chains.  When he looked closer there was a lazy pearlescent swirling just beneath the surface of the gems.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, which he let out slowly.  Of course Savos sent these; Maevaris hadn’t been involved in the actual negotiation, and had made it clear that any correspondence would have to be between Dorian and Savos on this matter.  He had written to Mae the day after he’d come back through the mirror to let her know that his plans to return were now indefinitely delayed.

Receiving the order from Savos only reminded Dorian that his heart was truly still in two places at once.

_ I can’t go back now, _ he thought, taking a moment to smooth his hair and his robes.  It was out of the question, especially after last night’s outburst.  Eventually, yes, especially if Theo was retiring his mantle as the Inquisitor.  Maybe they could have that little quiet townhouse in Minrathous after all, someday.

He emerged from the washroom; the staff was gone, the bed neatly made and fresh flowers in the cut crystal vases on the gilt side tables.  He opened his trunk to stash away the small box for the time being, and his hand brushed against more velvet.  Dorian furrowed his brow and rummaged around before pulling out the green velvet and gold embroidered bag containing the decanter of Aureos whiskey.  Dammit.  Tevinter would not release him so easily today.  But… maybe he could share Tevinter with Theo, at least to start.  There had been so little opportunity to do so.

Dorian wandered the halls and peered into rooms, but there was no sign of Theo.  Varric and Bull were playing chess; Cullen, Melina, and Leliana were sipping tea and reminiscing about their times together, and the state of the Chantry currently.  Josephine and Cassandra were probably trying to appease the rest of the Exalted Council.  He tried Cassandra’s door anyway, and was surprised when she opened it.  “Dorian.  I assume you are looking for your husband?”

He nodded.  “I know you’re not his keeper, but thought you may have seen him?  Or he came to you for spiritual guidance?” he asked with a smile.

She snorted and ushered him inside her suite.  “He is out in the garden, picking flowers of all things.”

Dorian quirked an eyebrow and Cassandra showed him to the door leading out into her private gardens.  It didn’t take long to find Theo picking out flowers one stem at a time: roses, crystal grace, and Andraste’s grace.  He glanced up when Dorian’s shadow fell upon him.  He’d rolled up his left sleeve so it didn’t dangle in the dirt, his palm was scratched from the thorns, and the back of his neck was red from the sun bearing down on him.  He wiped the sweat off his forehead and left a smear of dirt across his face.

“Always a sight,  _ Amatus,” _ Dorian said with a smile.  “Dare I ask what you’re doing?”

Theo paused to take a swig from the water skin at his side, shaking his head when Dorian instinctively moved to help him.  “My sister Gwyneth had this blue and gray glass horse our father had brought home from a trip to Orlais once. I think I was about seven or eight.  I wanted to see it more closely but I was young and clumsy.”

“You broke it,” Dorian guessed, and Theo nodded.

“She was so upset.  I was too embarrassed and upset to tell her I was sorry, so… I went out to the gardens and picked her flowers.”  He stared at the flowers he’d gathered so far.  “I thought Josephine might like the gesture as well.”

“You could have any florist in the palace, or even in all of Orlais do that,” Dorian told him, kneeling down next to him in the dirt and grass.

“I know.  Ever since becoming Inquisitor I’ve had people doing things for me, but there are some things I need to do myself. Like this,” he said, hefting the small pruning shears in his hand and clipping another rose.  He moved quickly, snipping the stem, dropping the shears, and catching the flower in his hand.  “Luckily I always had good reflexes, I suppose.”  

“Would you like me to leave you to this?” Dorian asked, brushing a leaf off his shoulder.  “Give you some time to think?”

Theo bit his lip.  “Actually, would you stay?  We don’t have to talk, but just having you here helps.”

“Of course, love,” Dorian told him.  “Let me see if Cassandra has anything I can read.”

“She probably finished Varric’s latest novel by now,” Theo said, his face breaking into a slight grin.  “You could read that.”

They spent the afternoon quietly at first, but soon Dorian couldn’t resist reading passages of Varric’s novel aloud.  Theo didn’t laugh, not the way he would have a month ago, but he did chuckle, and eventually set down the pruning shears and leaned against Dorian while he read.  Then the afternoon sun grew warm and the air drowsy and sweet, and the page blurred before Dorian’s eyes.  He glanced down, thinking Theo was already asleep, but he was resting his head in his lap and staring up at him.  “I should probably go find Josephine,” he said, struggling to prop himself up.

“Like that?” Dorian asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe she’ll find it endearing,” Theo said with a halfhearted shrug as he started trying to gather the flowers.  “I really do feel bad.”

They headed back inside and Dorian found a silk ribbon to tie the bouquet together while Theo’s cheeks burned with embarrassment.  Dorian sighed.  “So you can’t tie a bloody bow,” he said, handing Theo the flowers.  “Many people  _ with  _ the proper number of hands can’t.”  He meant it to be humorous, but it just made Theo turn even redder.  “Too much thoughtfulness for one day,” Dorian finally told him.  “Do your business, and when you return to our room we’ll have a splendid evening in, just the pair of us.”  He gave Theo a light kiss on the cheek.  Theo managed an offhand smile, but Dorian couldn’t miss the fear in his green eyes.

Fear of facing the Josephine--or the Wrath of Ruffles, as Varric had said once (and only once)-- or fear of facing Dorian intimately?

 

* * *

 

Theo took a deep breath and rapped on the door of Josephine’s study.  He kept himself planted, much as he wanted to turn away, and when she called for him to come in he steeled himself and entered.  “Inquisi--”she caught herself.  “Theodane.  Welcome.”  She smiled from behind the mountain of paperwork she was working on.  

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out before he lost his nerve and before she laid into him.  “You’re right, I don’t know what you’ve been dealing with, and I took what  _ I’m _ dealing with out on you.  Here.”  He held out the flowers.

Josephine came out from behind her desk and took the bouquet.  She sniffed the various blooms before setting the flowers down on her desk in the middle of all her papers.  Theo braced himself for another stinging smack across the cheek, but instead she pulled him into a hug.  When she released him, her amber eyes were teary.  “I am sorry as well,” she said, pulling a chair closer and gesturing for him to sit.  She grabbed a small bell on the corner of her desk and rang it, and an Inquisition servant appeared.  “Tea?” she asked, and the servant bowed.

“Sometimes I forgot that we were on the same side,” she began.  She leaned back in her chair and rested one foot on a small embroidered footstool.  It may have been the most relaxed Theo had ever seen her in the three years they’d known one another.  “The conflicts were so far-reaching that it took all of us to attack it from many different angles.  And I rather like order and control, you see.”

“Could have fooled me,” Theo said with a smile.  The servant arrived and sat the tea tray down on the table between the chairs.  He nodded his thanks when she poured him a cup.

Josephine took a quick sip.  “The fact that the Council was called, and we had no choice but to attend, and the fact that everything was such a delicate balance... I realize I never asked you what you wanted to do about the Inquisition before we left Skyhold.  I just assumed that we needed to continue on our course.”

“I didn’t know what I wanted by then,” Theo admitted.  “We’d stopped Corypheus and were just sort of in limbo waiting for the next world-altering threat.  Ironically it took the Exalted Council for that to happen.”

“And  _ that _ was so unexpected and there was no time to formulate coordinated strategies,” she said.  “It was all out of control, and that… well, that frightened me.”  She drank her tea and took a long look at him.  “You’ve done so much that I often forget how young you are,” she said.

He laughed.  “I feel ancient.”

“You’ve experienced more in three years than most people do in their lives,” she said.  “I guess the real question is what will you do if you’re not Inquisitor?”

“Other than avoid certain death yet again?” he asked, looking at her over the rim of his teacup.  “Probably try to live again.  Dorian and I never did get a proper honeymoon.”

Josephine chuckled, and Theo did smile, but his insides twisted as if he’d swallowed a bunch of live worms.  Dorian.  He’d been there, unquestioning and devoted through this whole ordeal.  Theo shuddered to think of what Dorian: pristine, coiffed, manicured Dorian had probably done while he was unconscious.  He’d never said anything other than he was grateful Theo had survived (again), but it still made him nervous to think about being with him again after all that had happened to him.

“Apology accepted?” he asked her after a moment.

“Yes, of course.  Thank you for the flowers,” she added.  “I honestly do not remember the last time a man brought me flowers.”  She blushed slightly.  “It was thoughtful of you.  And hard as it is for me to relinquish control, whatever you decide I will support you as I always have.”

“That means the world, Josephine,” he told her, taking her hand and squeezing it.  “What about you?”

“I have been in contact with my family in Antiva, and think that I may be able to assist them in reversing their fortunes with the vast amount of contacts I have amassed,” she said.  “I do enjoy a challenge.”

So Josephine was going home.  Varric was probably going back to Kirkwall to resume his Viscount duties, and to collect on his bet with his Seneschal.  That was two of his circle with plans and places to go.  As for the others, he didn’t know yet.  As for himself, he didn’t know yet.

He rounded a corner and nearly walked into the Iron Bull and Krem.  “Boss!  Didn’t hear you coming,” Bull said, voice just a little too loud.  Krem excused himself and Theo wished he could do the same.

“Did you need to go after…” Theo said, aimlessly gesturing in Krem’s direction.  His face burned and the strange phantom pains in his arm made his missing fingers want to twitch.  Theo found it hard to glance up at Bull after his angry outburst the night before, but even more because it was hard to face him--especially when Bull actually looked uncomfortable being face to face, alone, with Theo.

“No, no, I’ll catch up with him later.  Looks like you’ve been busy today?”

“Yeah, a little,” Theo said, scuffing his toe along the floor.

“Were you just with Josephine?”

“Yeah.  I wanted to tell her I was sorry for last night.”

“How’d she take it?”

“We’re okay now,” Theo said.  The thick tension made his ribs feel tighter and his stomach twist.  Bull didn’t  _ do _ small talk.  “I guess I’m trying to make things right with everyone else, so…”  He took a deep breath.  “I know you did it to save me and I’m grateful.  It’s just a lot to get used to.”

Bull let out his breath and the tension went out of his shoulders.  “It wasn’t my first choice, believe me.”

“Or mine.”  Theo cleared his throat.  “I just need some time.  I’m sure you get it, with… you know.”  He glanced up at Bull’s eyepatch.

Bull cracked a smile.  “Take what time you need, Boss.”  

Theo nodded his thanks and hurried back toward his rooms.  He made a mental note to thank Leliana and Cullen for the work their staff did to keep the public away.  He would have to face it all eventually.  He couldn’t avoid it forever, even if it terrified him.


	24. Dangerous Obsession

“Dor?” he called when he walked into the room and closed the door behind him.  He looked around.  The lamps had been dimmed and a fire danced on the hearth.  

“In here.”  Theo followed Dorian’s voice to the washroom.  Steam curled up from the tub and Dorian’s fingers glowed a subtle reddish orange as his mana sent heating magic to keep the water warm.  “The spa sent up some samples so I took the liberty of starting a nice soak,” he said.  The humidity made his dark hair curl and his skin glisten.  “Join me?”

Theo bit his lip and avoided Dorian’s gaze.  Usually such soaks in the tub led to touching and feeling and kissing and sex.  It had been a long while since they’d been together; when he thought about it, the last time they’d been intimate it had been their first night together here at the palace.  It felt like another life.  He glanced at his empty left sleeve.  It  _ had _ been another life.  “It’s okay, I’ll wait until you’re done,” he murmured.  He turned away.

Dorian rose, the warm scented water streaming off his body.  The water sloshed and splashed over the rim of the large tub as he stepped out and grabbed Theo’s wrist.  Theo looked down; he looked away.  He looked anywhere but at Dorian, glistening with bath water in the golden candlelight, confident and calm and beautiful.  And whole.

Dorian didn’t say anything; he just started undoing the lacing on the front of Theo’s rumpled and dirty shirt and his long, elegant fingers slipped under the hem, trailing along Theo’s torso.  Any other time Dorian’s touch would have left Theo tingling and hungry for him.  “I… I don’t think…” he stammered.

“Just a bath.  Gardening has left you filthy.” Dorian’s other hand tilted Theo’s chin up so he could meet his eyes.  Theo took a shuddering breath.  He’d never feared being vulnerable with Dorian before.  He nodded and let Dorian help him out of his shirt, and then his breeches.  Dorian was soft and gentle and didn’t tease or try to titillate him, and then took his hand and helped him into the tub.

Theo sank down into the water, holding his left upper arm to his torso as if he could hide it, even though logically he knew he couldn’t.  This was far worse than that very first time they’d shared a tub back at Griffon Wing Keep and he’d been so embarrassed for Dorian to see him entirely naked the first time.  He bit his lip and dared a glance at Dorian, but his husband was reclining with his head back against the edge of the tub, eyes closed.

He reached for a bar of scented soap and rubbed it along a cloth, then worked to clean off the grime from his time out in the sun in the garden.  He glanced at Dorian again, but Dorian remained relaxed. Theo struggled more and swore when the soap slipped out of his hand yet again.  He slapped the washing cloth against the water’s surface and tried to calm himself with a deep breath.  

This time Dorian did look at him.  “You need only ask,  _ Amatus, _ ” Dorian told him, his grey eyes soft.  Theo shrugged and Dorian slid over to him.  He ran the soap over Theo’s shoulders and back, his hands warm and rubbing away tension as well as dirt.  Theo’s neck and shoulders started to loosen up and he sighed as he relaxed into Dorian’s touch.  Dorian let him see to his left side himself, before gathering Theo into his arms.  Theo let Dorian hold him and focused on the buzz of Dorian’s magic against his back and the security of Dorian’s arms around his torso.  “Are you in any pain?” Dorian asked.

“Not really, no,” Theo said after a moment.  His left arm was mostly numb, but sometimes he felt twinges of… something or other where his hand used to be.  It was disconcerting more than painful.

They toweled off and dressed.  The room was cozy and warm from the fire.  Someone had come and laid out a dinner spread while they were bathing.  “I was putting something away in my trunk earlier and realized I never gave you the gifts I brought you from Tevinter,” Dorian said with a smile.  His eyes shone and once again Theo tried to ignore the pang that always seemed to rise whenever Dorian mentioned Tevinter these days.

Dorian unwrapped one parcel and set it before Theo, who was sitting in the middle of the bed.  “What’s this?” Theo asked, trailing his hand over the green silk.  

“You know my copper colored Tevinter silk shirt?”

“Oh, you mean  _ my _ Tevinter silk shirt?” Theo asked with a grin.  Dorian had let him wear it once; it had never quite made it back into Dorian’s wardrobe, and the times that Theo took it out to wear on occasion at Skyhold had left Dorian wistfully eyeing his pilfered shirt.

“I got you a green one of your own,” Dorian explained.  He sat next to Theo and shook out the garment.  He held it up to Theo’s bare torso and smiled.  “Perfect,” he whispered.  “Put it on?”  Theo nodded and let Dorian help him into the shirt.  It was soft against his skin and seemed to float around his body.  “I can have a tailor see to it, if you’d like,” Dorian offered, fidgeting with the left sleeve.

“We’ll worry about it later,” Theo said.  He leaned in and gave Dorian a kiss.  Dorian’s lips almost trembled beneath his own.  “This is lovely, thank you.  It will go nicely with my other one,” he said and dodged a teasing swat from Dorian.  “What’s that?”

Dorian opened a small pouch and produced a lovely silverite and peridot cloak brooch.  “It was one of my first days in Minrathous.  I was wandering the market, missing you terribly, when I saw this flash of green.  It reminded me of you,” he said.  Theo couldn’t remember the last time Dorian looked shy.  Vulnerable.  Theo had missed him so badly when he was gone.  What had he done?  Gone out riding across the Dales wiping out Venatori, while Dorian managed to find reminders of him even in the heart of the Imperium.  

“I’ll make it up to you, Dor,” Theo said, turning the brooch in the light to watch it sparkle.  “This is beautiful.  Thank you so much.”  Dorian took his hand and led him to the small table where dinner waited.  The wine had already been poured, and the meal, Theo noted, was already in bite-sized pieces--on both plates.  “If this is the reward I get for almost dying, I’ll take it,” he said jokingly as they began their meals.

Dorian shook his head and took a sip of wine.  “No more dying for you.  I don’t think my heart can take much more,” he said.  Under the table, his foot lightly caressed Theo’s leg.  “How did things go with Josephine?”

“She liked the flowers.” It had been such a simple gesture, but she truly had appreciated it, and it made him feel better about making amends with her.  “She said she may go back to Antiva.  I got to thinking what we might do,” he said.  He took a hasty sip of wine.  Without the Inquisition to hold and maintain it, chances were good Skyhold would empty out and be another ruin lost to time until someone else needed it in the far-flung future.

“What about spending some time with your family in Ostwick?” Dorian asked.

“Tevinter still off limits?” Theo asked, his spirits falling a bit.  He made himself keep eating.  

“Give it time,  _ Amatus.   _ We’ll go one day.”  Dorian dabbed his lips with his napkin.  “Besides, I’d love to see your family again.  Your parents love me.”  Theo snorted.  “What?  How could they not?  I make their son radiantly happy.  I do, don’t I?”

Theo chuckled.  “Of course you do.  And yes, I suppose they do like you.”

“No, no, they love me.”  Dorian batted his long lashes at Theo, who finally shook his head and conceded, still laughing.

They finished eating and Dorian rummaged in his trunk.  “Finally, my last gift from Tevinter, but one, I think, that needs to be shared.”  He pulled a crystal decanter of amber liquid from a green velvet bag.

“Whiskey?  You don’t really like whiskey.”

“I don’t, but I hadn’t had whiskey from Tevinter’s oldest and best distillery,” Dorian said.  They sat on the bed, leaning against the pillows and bolsters.  “Perhaps it’s because I’m a snob about all things Tevinter, or perhaps it really is that good.  Care to help me figure out which it is?” he asked with a grin.  He pulled out the stopper and held the decanter to Theo to sniff.

It was potent but pleasant, the smell alone nearly enough to relax him.  Dorian poured a small measure in a glass, touched it with his ice magic, and handed it to Theo.  Theo took tiny sips which burned trails of warmth going down his throat and sat in his stomach on top of his dinner.  It left him feeling heavy and sleepy.  “You never got the chance to tell me much about how things went back home,” he said, curling up on his side and watching Dorian.

“I saw my father a few times.  We disagreed, as usual.  I spent time with Maevaris Tilani, and met some of her friends whom I daresay are more spirited than this fine whiskey.”  He furrowed his brow. “What’s wrong?”

Theo rubbed at an itch on his left arm, near what remained of his elbow.  “Did you see other people you’d known?”

Dorian reached over and brushed his hair off his forehead.  “I did not.  And if I had, it’s been years since I was in Tevinter.  I’m a much different person now.  For the better, thanks to a certain handsome man from the Free Marches,” he added with a smile.  The firelight warmed his dark skin and reflected in his eyes.  His hand drifted down to gently cup Theo’s cheek.

Theo rested into Dorian’s touch.  “I’m sorry.  I just see how happy you are when you talk of Tevinter.  And then… no, it’s stupid.”  He wriggled away from Dorian and drank down the rest of his whiskey.

“No, please, go on.”

Theo felt a little queasy.  “I think about you back there someday, catching someone’s eye, because how could you not, I mean look at you,” he said, and Dorian grinned, basking in the praise.

“I  _ am _ a sight,” Dorian said, pouring a bit more into Theo’s glass.  “I’m sure I’ve caught many eyes over the years.  But that’s not what troubles you.”

Theo shook his head.  “I think… I think what you could do with a man with two arms.”  His voice came out a choked whisper.  He hardly dared look at Dorian; but he’d needed to say it, to define the first of many insecurities that now plagued him.

Dorian didn’t slap him; he didn’t even playfully swat at him.  He hooked one finger under Theo’s chin and met his eyes.  “Nothing,” he said.  “There is  _ nothing _ I could do with a man with two arms, because the man I love, and pledged my enduring faithfulness to in the sight of the Maker, only has one.”  He scooted nearer and kissed Theo.  Theo’s eyes welled up and his heart beat faster.  “I fell in love with you for your brilliant mind and your compassion and humility, not the number of limbs you have.”  Dorian pulled away for a moment and shrugged out of his shirt.  For a moment Theo froze; Dorian had eased his fears and insecurities, but he still wasn’t sure if he was ready for more.

But Dorian tossed his shirt to the side and turned to face Theo.  “Tell me what you see.”

Theo took in Dorian’s lean muscles and smooth, coppery skin.  Dorian called a small flame to his fingertips for more light, and then Theo saw the long lines of paler scar tissue; they’d healed so well he sometimes forgot they were there.  “When I almost lost you to Corypheus,” he murmured.

Dorian nodded.  He took Theo’s hand and guided his fingertips along the scars.  “They’ve healed up rather well, but for a time I was embarrassed by them.”

“Why?  I never cared.  I was just so grateful you survived.”

“And that is why I hardly think of them anymore,” Dorian said.  “I’d been raised to achieve perfection, and those scars were imperfections.  But you never cared, and that was better than being perfect.  That you could love me as I am.”  Dorian reached for Theo’s left arm.  “I know you are healing and dealing with many things,  _ Amatus _ .  But please trust me when I tell you that I love you as you are?”

Theo willed his left arm to remain still, and gave Dorian a slight nod.   He felt Dorian’s hand through the smooth, Tevinter silk of his shirt, trailing down toward his elbow.  He closed his eyes and his breath hitched in his throat when he knew Dorian’s hand touched the emptiness below that.  Then he was folded in Dorian’s arms, safe and sound with his love murmuring musical, nonsensical Tevene that must have been some sort of lullaby; combined with the whiskey and the overflowing emotions, he fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

 

Dorian let the sheets fall from his torso as he sat up, yawning.  “You haven’t really said much about what happened before I came through the Eluvian after you.”

The word ‘Eluvian’ made Theo’s heart skip.  Dorian climbed out of bed and rested his hands on Theo’s shoulders.  He’d tried putting it out of his mind, but thoughts of Solas, and what he’d done kept coming back to him.  Part of his future plans involved not just settling down somewhere with Dorian, but eventually learning to fight again, and going after the trickster.

He set his quill down and reached up to take Dorian’s hand.  “You once told me I had a strange talent for finding… what was it?  Crazy people bent on becoming gods.  I found Solas,” he said, aloud for the first time since coming back.  “And he’s not bent on becoming a god.  He is one.”

Dorian sat next to him and examined him with a critical eye.  “Are you sure you didn’t get knocked on the head out there, and just didn’t tell anyone?”  Theo shook his head and explained what he’d learned.  Dorian appeared skeptical.  “To quote Varric, this shit is indeed weird,” he finally said.  “Are you sure what he meant?”

“Have you noticed that all of the servants in the palace are human?” Theo asked him.  It was something he’d noted while he was still confined to his room.  “You can’t tell me all the elves serving here were Viddethari.”

“You think…”

“He’s still out there and I need to go after him.”

“ _ Amatus. _  Theo.  You can’t mean…”

“I can, and I do, Dor.”  He looked at his list.  “Not right away, obviously.  I have things to do first.  But I will find him, and I will kill him.”  

“I thought you were through fighting,” Dorian said quietly.  He looked at Theo’s list.   “Discuss elven numbers with Leliana?  Do you really think he planted so many spies under our noses?”

“He caused the fucking Breach and we didn’t know it until the  _ Viddasala _ of all people told us!” Theo pulled his list away from Dorian.  “We-- _ I _ \-- let him pull my strings for over a year and thought he was just trying to help and was just a quirky apostate.  He’s Fen’Harel embodied, and he’s going to destroy our world.”

“I love you, Theodane.  I do.  But you’ve done so much already.  Perhaps this is one battle you have to let someone else fight?”  Dorian’s voice was pleading.

“You hardly believe me,” Theo told him.  Dorian started to reply, but he shook his head.  “I know you do, but you’re skeptical.  I can see it in your eyes.  You’ve every right to be skeptical.  But if  _ you _ barely believe it, and you went there with me… who else will?  Who else is going to want to fight this?”

“I nearly lost you to Solas’s magic once,” Dorian said.  “Please don’t make me go through that again.”  His voice was low and soft.  He pressed his full lips together in a thin, bloodless line.  “I’ve been with you every step of the way through this.  I know you have sacrificed and struggled.  I have as well, though, and I’d rather not any longer if I don’t have to.”

Theo took a deep breath, prepared to launch into a speech about why he had to do this, how Dorian just had to understand that… but one look at the pained expression on his husband’s face, and Theo stopped.  He exhaled slowly.  “You’re right,” he said, because Dorian  _ was _ right, but he knew that he also had to go after Solas.  But for now he had to focus on the present.  He couldn’t let Solas become a dangerous obsession.

He would write to Ostwick and let his family know they were coming for an indefinitely long visit.  He would ask Cassandra to reconvene the Exalted Council one last time.  And he would try to stop fighting battles that were no longer his.   _Try._


	25. Goodbye

Theo agreed to appease Josephine this one last time.  He stood before a mirror while the tailor finished the final few stitches to hem up the left sleeve of his dress uniform.  It hung on him a bit after the weight he’d lost, and after shaving, his cheeks looked hollow.  He let the tailor finish buttoning him up, then turned.  “Do I look alright?” he asked.

Dorian eyed him critically to the point that Theo started to squirm, but then he smiled.  “Always and ever a lovely sight,  _ Amatus, _ ” he said.  He gave Theo a peck on the cheek.  “Shall we?” he asked, offering his arm.

Theo took his arm and Dorian led him out of their suite.  Theo’s fingers dug into his arm, through the weave of his robes and his leather mage armor underneath.  They approached the doors of the guest wing, flanked by several Inquisition guards.  The armored men stood at strict attention and saluted as Theo approached.  “I’m not the--” he started to whisper.

“They don’t know that,” Dorian told him.  “After your announcement you can object all you like.”

Dorian would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit he was nervous as well.  He’d been relatively secluded over the last few weeks.  He’d also stayed out of the public eye, letting the advisors and Cassandra field questions, largely because he didn’t trust himself not to snap at the nobles and politicians angling to use Theo’s situation to their own gains.  And now as the double doors opened and the sunlight poured in, Theo’s grip on his arm tightened even more.  “Smile,” he advised.  “This is the last time you’ll have to.”

Sunlight flooded the hallway and outside on the stone terrace a corridor of Inquisition guards snapped to attention.  As they took first one step, then another toward the main entry of the palace, Dorian saw that the guards were blocking a huge throng of curious nobles and politicians.  After a moment of silence the cries for attention started.

“Inquisitor!”   


“Your Worship, can you--”

“All hail the Inquisition!”

And other not so savory calls.  The roar of voices was loud as an ocean during a storm, and Dorian glanced over at Theo.  He stood straight, eyes forward as he took stiff steps beneath the sunlight.  Dorian rested his other hand on Theo’s.  The death grip on his arm loosened slightly.

The meeting chamber was already full, the doors ajar so Dorian could see inside.  “I’m with you,” he whispered to Theo before slipping away and into the chamber.  He took a seat toward the back, next to Bull and Varric.

“Boss okay?” Bull muttered, and Dorian nodded.  “Never met a stubborner ass than him, even in the Qun,” Bull said with a chuckle.  “I was sad to see this end, but I think it’ll be good to see where the Chargers can go next.”

“I wouldn’t mind having your on hand in Kirkwall,” Varric offered.

Bull grumbled low in his chest.  “I think too many people still remember the Qunari invasion.  But I wouldn’t say no to the occasional odd job.  Or the occasional drink and game of cards.”

It was odd to think of everyone going their separate ways.  No one had come right out and asked Dorian about his plans, and it wasn’t his place to tell them, anyway.  Theo had earned some privacy.

But it would be a little longer before then.  Suddenly the doors opened at the back of the chamber and everyone rose.  Theo strode in amid gasps and whispers.  His cheeks were red as he no doubt heard people talking about his missing arm; some of the less tactful people actually pointed.  He stood before the dais.  Arl Teagan still looked sour, but at least he didn’t look pleased about Theo’s state.  And even with his mask on, Duke Cyril de Montfort still belied surprise.

“Inquisitor Trevelyan.  We were assured that we were kept waiting for a good reason.  Now that I see, I wish to apologize for our impatience,” Duke Cyril said, and Theo’s entire face was crimson: either from anger, or embarrassment at the oblique reference to his missing left forearm.

“I believe the Inquisitor has come to a decision,” Cassandra broke in before Theo could say anything.  “Lord Trevelyan?”

Theo took a deep breath.  This was it.  Dorian held his breath and leaned forward.  Theo tilted his chin up and squared his shoulders.  “I have, Your Perfection.  Effective immediately, the Inquisition is disbanded.  Effective immediately, I will no longer answer to Inquisitor.”

Bull, Varric, and Dorian, and the other members of Theo’s inner circle, were the only ones who didn’t jump up and begin shouting.  Arl Teagan looked smug; Duke Cyril leaned forward, trying to get Theo’s attention.  Finally Cassandra bellowed for silence.  Dorian didn’t know much about the Southern Divines, but apparently they weren’t known for battlefield volume calls to action, because her volume alone scared them into silence.  

“The Inquisition has served Thedas and its purpose,” Theo continued.  “This isn’t a win for anyone, except maybe me.  I’m tired.  I’ve given everything I have and more and it’s time to step down and stop fighting.”

Theo turned and started down the central aisle.  Duke Cyril kept calling after him, begging for more answers, begging to make a bargain, to reconsider.  Theo made it to the exit and looked back at Duke Cyril.  “I’d give you more reasons why I’m through with this, but I don’t quite have enough fingers left to count on,” he said.  Dorian wondered if he’d ever let that die.  At least the visible part of Cyril’s face went pale.  “And if…  _ If _ something else happens and the world needs saving again?  Find someone else.”  He sauntered out the exit, leaving everyone in stunned silence.

Cassandra had a small grin on her face.  Somewhere in here, Josephine was groaning.  “He’s good at getting the last word,” Varric finally said in a low voice.  “I taught him well.”

* * *

Cullen had plans to return to Ferelden, but would stop at Skyhold first.  “Any one of our army forces should have no problem finding work after this, but I want to see to those that have concerns or need guidance,” he said as he shrugged into his bear pelt mantle.  He held out his hand.  “It’s been an honor, Dorian.” Dorian took Cullen’s hand, but Cullen pulled him into a rough hug.  “Take care of him,” Cullen added.

“Or Leliana will kill me,” Dorian said with a smile.  “She gave me that speech when he and I first got together.”

“Leliana?” Cullen asked with a chuckle.  “She’ll have to beat me… and Cassandra…”  He became serious again.  “We have no doubt that you’ll be happy together, and we say it only in jest.”

“It’s nice to be cared for,” Dorian told him.  And wait, were those  _ tears _ forming in the corners of his eyes?   _ Fasta vass, _ he was growing sentimental.

He and Cullen parted ways and he headed back to his rooms.  A man stood before the door and when Dorian got closer he could see the man wasn’t Inquisition-- or former Inquisition-- but Tevinter.  “Greetings, Magister Pavus,” the man said with a low bow.

Dorian’s stomach flipped.  “I believe you have my confused with my father, and you may be aware the Inquisition is no longer, so I’m not sure I’m even still an Ambassador anymore.”

“My apologies, Ser,” he said as he took out an ornate messenger scroll tube and presented it to Dorian.  “But it would appear that, as the next in line of House Pavus, the honor and duty of serving the Magisterium now falls to you.”

**_Only_** _one in line,_ Dorian thought as he took the tube with a trembling hand.  He pulled out the rolled parchment within and skimmed the letter… then read it more closely, and more closely still.  

He felt numb as he stood there in the hallway with the Magisterium courier, who was probably used to this sort of reaction, for how disaffected he seemed.  Halward was dead.  After all the years of philosophical differences; betrayals; attempts at reconciliation; disinterest; clinging to tradition, his father was dead.  And Dorian had until the end of month to return to Minrathous, before the ages-old Pavus seat went up for grabs to someone else.

He certainly wasn’t glad his father was dead.  It did feel strange, after all those years he pretended Halward was dead to him, for the man to actually be gone.  To know that the next time he went to Minrathous, he would be expected to sit in the Magisterium.  To know that when he went to Qarinus, the manor would be his home now.  To know his mother would wear black for mourning… or maybe not.  Maybe she was celebrating.  Aquinea always did know how to make a statement.

Then the next punch to the gut: Theo.

“Thank you,” he choked out to the page.  “I will make arrangements.  For your troubles,” he added, handing over a small purse of coins.

He took the coins.  “I’d say my troubles are nothing compared to yours,” he said with a slight bow.  “I’ve served as a Magisterium courier for many years.  This is as close to the top as I ever want to get.”

Dorian dismissed him and entered the room.  The last of Theo’s staff had been working on packing their things for the journey to Ostwick.  Dorian had seen the maps: Ostwick was on the far eastern coast, about as far from Minrathous as they could get.  But it would only be for a little while, just until things were settled.  Just until he could take his place and reassure the Magisterium that the Inquisition was no longer a threat.  Until he could convince his mother to take a smaller home in Minrathous, and he could assume control of the Pavus manor.  A year, maybe less if Dorian was lucky.

When Theo walked in a half hour later, tugging at his top collar button, Dorian was reclined on the settee with the open decanter of Aureos whiskey on the floor beside him.  He’d just taken a couple of swigs to calm his nerves.  The wooden box with the sending crystals rested on the small table next to him.

Theo stopped.  “What’s wrong?”  Dorian got to his feet and pulled Theo into a crushing hug.  He dug his fingers into Theo’s shoulders and held tight.  Halward had never been there for him when he needed him; Theo had always been there and had always been who he needed.  The loss created an emptiness that began to fill with fear and anxiety.  Theo wrapped his arm around Dorian.  “Tell me what’s wrong, Dor,” he said softly.

A spiny ball of emotion caught in his throat and his eyes watered with hot tears.  “My father’s dead,” he choked out.

“Maker’s breath, Dor, I’m so sorry.” Theo sat down with him and rubbed his back and shaking shoulders.  “What happened?”

“Murdered,” Dorian mumbled.  “Most likely an assassination, though I can’t imagine why.  He wasn’t one to rock the boat.”  He sniffled.  “Ugh, how am I crying over my father being dead?” he asked.

Theo kissed his forehead, his lips warm and soft and gentle.  He ran his thumb over Dorian’s cheek, wiping away a tear that rolled down.  “He was your father.  It was complicated between the two of you, though, and now that he’s gone… well.  All those complications won’t ever be resolved now.”

He had put into words just what Dorian was mourning but hadn’t been able to define.  Any hope of ever getting Halward to see beyond Dorian’s sexuality, of maybe even convincing him that the Imperium could rise from its ashes, was gone.  They would always have their differences between them.  He would always have that memory of the last time he and his father spoke, how he told Halward not to counsel him, how he ignored the invitation to dinner…

He buried his face in Theo’s shoulder and let the tears soak the material of his coat.  Theo stroked his hair and let him cry.  And then he remembered what his father’s death meant for  _ them _ , and he cried even harder.  

Dorian swallowed his sobs and sat up.  “Whatever you need, I’m here for you,” Theo told him and handed him a silk kerchief.

“I need… I need you to understand something about what this all truly means,” Dorian said after a moment.  His voice was thin and strangled.

“You can tell me, love,” Theo said, taking his hand.

How could Dorian begin to tell Theo exactly what he had to do, especially now, on today of all days?  Theo had lost the ability to shoot his bow; he’d given up his Inquisition.  And Dorian was about to ask him to return to Ostwick alone.  For the first time Dorian found it hard to meet Theo’s concerned green gaze.  

“The letter told me more than just that Halward was dead,” he said after a moment.  His pulse fluttered and it was hard to breathe.  “It reminded me that I am the next… well, the only one in line for his seat in the Magisterium.”  Theo blinked a couple of times.  He shifted against the back of the settee.  “I have until the end of the month to appear in Minrathous to claim the Pavus seat, or else it is forfeit and, essentially, up for sale to the highest bidder.”

Theo slowly pulled his hand back.  His face was pale and he swallowed.  He reached down for the whiskey decanter but knocked it over and swore loudly as he tried to pick it back up.  Dorian dropped to his knees to help, but Theo swatted his hands away.  The heady smell of whiskey rose from the carpet.  He finally took a swig of what was left.  “When we first met you told me you would never serve in the Magisterium,” he said, his voice low and trembling.

Dorian sighed.  “I did.  That was true at the time.  I never wanted to.”

“But now?  You want to now?”

“Yes.  No.  I don’t want to, I  _ have _ to.  Going back last month, it showed me what’s happening there, and more than that, that I have it in my power to help fix it.  Even more now that I’ll be a sitting Magister.”  He ran his hand through his hair and dared to look up at Theo.

Theo was fiddling with the button again.  He stiffened when Dorian undid the buttons down his coat and then shrugged out of it.  “I can go with you,” he said softly.  “I’m not the Inquisitor anymore.”

“To some you’ll always be the Inquisitor,” Dorian told him, desperate to make him understand just how unsafe the Imperium would be.  “It wouldn’t be long.  Just until I can sort things out and get my footing.”  Theo’s breath hitched in his throat when he inhaled and Dorian feared for one horrible moment Theo would start crying too.  “The timing is less than ideal, but…”

“That’s a bit of an understatement.”  Dorian reached for Theo’s hand, but he pulled it away.  “How long is ‘not long’?” he asked without looking at Dorian.

“A year, give or take.  Hopefully take.”

“A year.”

Dorian grabbed the box off the table and opened it.  “See these?  They’re sending crystals.  Very rare magical artifacts that allow people to communicate instantly over any distance.  If we want to talk, we simply take the crystal and there we are.”  He tried to smile.  His eyes were welling up with tears again.  He undid the clasp of one and fastened it around Theo’s neck with shaking hands before putting his on.  The weight of the crystal felt strange against the top of his sternum.

Theo stared at Dorian’s crystal and his fingers brushed over the one he now wore.  “Rare artifact?”  Dorian nodded.  “Hard to come by, I’d suppose?”  Dorian nodded again.  “Funny then that you were able to procure one just in time to learn of your father’s death.”

He may as well have punched Dorian in the gut.  “Are you saying I…”

“Had a role in your father’s death?  Never,” Theo said.  “But… you had to have figured out how to get these when you were back in Tevinter.  You had to know you’d leave.”

“It had crossed my mind.  But after everything happened in those ruins, and with the Council…I thought to stay.  I thought I’d return these after we’d settled down.  And then I learned of my father’s death.”  He grabbed Theo’s hand and held tight when Theo tried to wrest his hand away.  “Theodane.   _ Amatus. _  Please.  It’s only a little while we’d be apart.”  Theo was silent, staring through Dorian; his nostrils were slightly flared and his jaw clenched tight.  Theo’s hand was stiff in his.  “I love you.  I’m not saying goodbye.”

Theo pulled his hand away and turned from Dorian.  “I am.”

It left him speechless.  “Theo…?”

He refused to look at Dorian, instead walking into the washroom and slamming the door.

Dorian stared at the door.  He could hardly see through the tears welling up in his eyes.  He went about packing his personal effects into his trunk and kept waiting for Theo to come back out, or maybe even try the sending crystal; if it worked across thousands of miles, it had to work between two rooms.  But there was nothing.

He took one last look back before he left, staff in hand.  He rubbed his golden wedding ring with his thumb.  He’d made a promise to love Theo forever, and he would.  But right now, Tevinter had called, and he had to answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Thank you to everyone for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos as you've followed Theo and Dorian on this adventure. They will return in **Voice of the Old Gods** soon._


End file.
